A job with benefits
by Boomstick Mick
Summary: Applejack is utterly flummoxed and bewildered when she sees who answers her help wanted add for an extra farm hand
1. I quit

"Are you sure that's the right decision?" Spitfire asked incredulously as Rainbow Dash stared her down.

"You lied to me about Soarin's wing, just so you could get a better flyer!" The rainbow-maned mare replied, gesturing to Soarin with her hoof, who stood grimacing at his team mates with his forelimbs crossed over his chest. "You may be a winning team, but you're not the kind of winning team I want to be a part of."

Spitfire looked to be deep in thought before she removed her glasses and gave Rainbow Dash an appraising look. "Rainbow Dash, you are something — saw it at the academy, seeing it again here; we could learn a lot from a competitor like you." The fiery-maned captain smiled before turning a remorseful gaze to Soarin. "You ready to fly?"

Soarin had to think about her offer. Part of him wanted to say "really?!" as if nothing had just happened, but This wasn't the first time they had done this to him. It was always through some convenient 'mishap' or 'miscommunication' that he always ended up missing the Wonderbolts derbies. On several different occasions he had been 'accidentally' replaced in their roster with Wave Chill or Rapidfire when he was due to perform at major shows, which would end up with him being forced to watch the show from the stands where he was stuck signing autographs and being accosted by fans. Soarin wasn't an idiot. He knew what was going on. The Wonderbolt had decided that he had had enough. Soarin knew that he was the weakest flyer among them, but he was sick of his team mates making him feel left out. He wasn't sure at that point who he should be more angry with. Himself, or them.

"Well?" Spitfire repeated. "You ready to fly, or not?"

Soarin decided to start with them. He would have plenty of time to deprecate himself later. "No."

Spitfire smiled and turned around, but she quickly turned to him again in a double take. "Excuse me?"

"I said no." Soarin repeated while pointing an accusing hoof at her. "This is the fifth time you have done this to me, and I'm sick of it. You always seem to take advantage of every opportunity you can to ditch me! Why didn't you just bring Rapidfire instead of me?"

"That's what I originally suggested," Fleetfoot answered with a callous shrug. "Spitfire thought it would be more politically correct if we had at least one male in our group, but since you were injured from being distracted by those cheer fillies bouncing around, I'd say that was a mistake."

"Fleetfoot!" Spitfire hissed in cautioning tone.

"You see that?" Soarin pointed out. "I'm glad Fleetfoot is here, because I can at least hear the truth from someone. Why am I even a part of this team if I'm just going to be treated like unwanted baggage?"

Spitfire approached her irate team mate and placed a hoof on on his chest. "Soarin, this isn't the time or place for an outburst. I really wish you would have just told me you've been feeling this way sooner."

Soarin swatted her hoof away. "Look, I'm sick of being treated like a third wheel in this team. I'd rather not be a part of it if I'm just going to hold you all back."

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Soarin!" Fleetfoot interjected. "You have had plenty of opportunities to train and improve yourself, but you didn't take them, and that's why you are our weakest link. That's why we were forced to switch you out of the roster so many times! I would have told you straight to your face that we switched the roster on you, but Spitfire wanted to spare your feelings. It was she who came up with all the bogus excuses as to why you couldn't attend all those events. If you're going to be mad at anyone, be mad at her."

"I knew it," Soarin said with a disgusted sneer.

"Fleetfoot, you are out of line!" Spitfire shouted.

"No, no she's not, Captain. As harsh as she sounds, she's telling me everything I need to know. And now that my suspicions have been confirmed, I have made a decision."

"Decision?" The captain asked, her expression fearful yet inquisitive as she turned her head slightly in a stern sideways glance.

"I quit."

"Quit? As in — quit the Equestria games?"

Soarin turned away from her and remained silent, thinking and mulling over his decision before voicing it. "I quite the games. The team. The Wonderbolts. I want out."

Soarin raised from his haunches and immediately made his way toward the train station, when Rainbow Dash suddenly landed in front of him and barred his path."You can't quit the Wonderbolts!"

"I just did."

"Soarin!" Spitfire joined Rainbow Dash by her side. "Think about what you're throwing away!"

"I had plenty of time to think about this decision when I was in the hospital. No one came to visit me, so I had ample time to reflect on my life."

"But where will you go? What will you do? You reside in the living quarters at the Wonderbolts academy when you're not on tour with us. Where will you live? The board wont provide housing for you if you're not on the team!"

"Spitfire, one of the perks to being a Wonderbolt was that it paid well. I have plenty of funds in my account to survive comfortably until I figure out what my next move will be. Another good thing is that I don't even have anything to my name back in my living quarters. I was too busy touring to purchase luxuries to furnish my home, and even when I'm at the academy, I have to assist with instructing the cadets, so I have nothing to send for. It's almost like... There was nothing here for me in the first place." And with that, Soarin flapped his wings and gracefully arched over the two mares before continuing his path to the train station. As he continued his brisk stride the last conversation he heard between Spitfire and Fleetfoot was that of them arguing among each other.

"Fleetfoot, say something! Do something!"

"I am! I'm sending an express letter to Rapidfire in Los Pegasus."

"Fleetfoot!"

"What? We need a third member to qualify for the games!"

* * *

><p>The beams of morning light shining through the curtains of the cheap hotel room's window assaulted Soarin's senses as his blood shot eyes slowly opened. It was always bright and sunny in Cloudsdale, making it the worst place in the world to have a hangover. With a dry mouth and pounding head he looked around and rose with a pained groan, the metallic sound of empty beer cans scattered on the bed from drowning his sorrows the night before cutting a path of sharp pain through his ears and into his skull like nails on a chalk board. He shuffled weakly and clumsily out of his bed and kept a hoof against the wall for balance as he made his way to the bathroom, where he'd swear he must have vomited up every meal he had eaten for the whole week, and perhaps a few organs. He flushed the toilet and fell backwards against the wall with his head in his hooves. "What was I thinking, drinking that much..?"<p>

After laying there for what felt like hours, he shambled to his hooves and left his room, remembering to check out on his way and — not envying the poor cleaning pony who had to sanitize that room upon his departure. After checking out and purchasing a newspaper from the clerk behind the counter of the hotel lobby, he trotted across the cloudy road to a small diner with his news paper in mouth.

"Welcome, sir!" An enthusiastic mare behind the bar greeted. "Sit anywhere you like."

Without acknowledging the girl's friendly greeting, he took his seat at the bar and placed his newspaper down on the counter.

"Hangover?" The mare guessed.

Soarin grumbled as he opened the paper and spread it across the counter top in front of him.

"Coffee?" The waitress guessed again.

"Please," He replied, rubbing his temples in circular motions with his hooves. "Lots of it... And an ice pick..."

"An ice pick, sir?"

"Yes, maybe if I poke a few holes in my skull it will relieve some of the pressure..."

The waitress giggled. "Funny AND cute! you're making me glad I didn't play hooky from work today."

Soarin couldn't help but smile, despite the throbbing pain in his head.

"Can I bring you something with that coffee, sir? My omelettes are to die for."

"I would like that, thank you." Soarin replied as his eyes scanned the want ads.

"Coming right up!" The waitress was gone in a flash and the sounds of sizzling and pots and pans clanking filled the kitchen behind the window across from the bar. She left the kitchen only once to set a mug of scalding hot black coffee in front of him. "Would you like cream, sir?"

"No, thank you." Soarin took several deep gulps of the hot and bitter beverage before returning to the want ads. "Construction ponies needed..." Soarin could do that. He was good with his hooves. "Preferably a Pegusus who can work from high places... Check... Must have experience... crap..." Soarin rolled his eyes before moving on to the next ad. "Apprentice baker needed at Sugarcube corner in Ponyville." Soarin felt as if he could certainly do that. He loved sweets. He continued to read the list of requirements, which were becoming more and more asinine by the second. "Must love to have fun... okay, that's strange... But who doesn't like to have fun? Must...know how to juggle? Must know how to operate a cannon... Must have experience applying clown makeup... Must love alligators. Must know what the fox says? Who the hell wrote this add? Pass." He continued to scroll down the list of jobs he was either under-qualified for, lacked the experience required, or just refused for his dignity's sake. "Sign waving. No thanks. Next. Security guard? Put that in the maybe section. Fry cook. No. Taxi pony. Maybe. Male escort service?" Soarin slowly looked left, then he looked right. Then he turned his gaze back to the ad. "Maybe..."

"Your omelet, sir."

Soarin looked up from the ads and saw the mare standing across the counter, balancing a tray and plate on her back upon which laid the largest omelet he had ever seen. He took the tray from her and set it down near his paper. "Thank you, miss."

"Not a problem, sir. If you'll be needing me, just call. My name is Ruby Dusk."

"Beautiful name," Soarin commented. "I'll let you know if I need anything else."

The waitress batted a flirty wink at him before leaving him to his breakfast.

"That girl knows how to earn a tip," Soarin chuckled to himself before taking another sip from his cup. He cut a large piece of the omelet and stuffed it in his mouth when an ad suddenly caught his eye.

**Farm hand needed at Sweet Apple Acres. No experience required. Job comes with benefits: Room and board provided. Consult Applejack for further details**

Soarin's cheeks bulged from the massive hunk of omelet in his mouth as he mumbled the words in the ad out loud. A job with benefits? Room and board? That would certainly alleviate the headache of trying to find an apartment. Working out doors in the fresh air? Physically challenging labor? Soarin smiled before rolling his paper up. He emptied his coffee cup with two generous gulps and stuffed the remaining half of the omelet down his throat with one hard swallow. "Miss Dusk, check, please."

"You only had the omelet and the coffee, correct? That comes out to eight bits," came Ruby Dusk's voice from somewhere in the kitchen. "I could get you a receipt if you'd like, but you'll have to be patient, I'm terribly busy back here."

"That won't be necessary. I'll leave the money here on the tray."

"Okay, thank you, sir. Come by and see me again, okay?"

Soarin felt charitable as he remembered how the girl made him smile when he first took his seat at the diner. Making him, Soarin, Smile while hungover? It was a feat that many had tried, and many had failed before her. This charming lass deserved something for her efforts. Soarin set the eight bits down on the tray along with a munificent tip of twenty bits. "You put a smile on this stallion's face, now he's going to return the favor."

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing, your money's on the tray." Soarin replied as he pushed the glass door of the diner open and exited with an optimistic feeling he didn't have when he entered only moments ago.

* * *

><p>The orchards of Sweet Apple Acres - it was like an ocean of green from Soarin's point of view. He stood there perched upon his cloud and peered down at the seemingly vacant ocean of green before noticing the red two story house that sat atop a hill and overlooked the whole of the Apple family property like a lighthouse standing erect at the base of a crashing shore of an apple-scented sea. He took a moment to appreciate the view before diving and setting a rapid course toward the lone homestead on the hill. "Consult Applejack for further details... Applejack... Where have I heard that name before?"<p>

The intricacies and structures of the property became more and more visible to the winged stallion as he closed the distance between himself and the farm. He could now make out the three rung horse fence that surrounding the home and enclosed it with several pens filled with livestock. He also took notice of the large dilapidated barn at the far corner of the fencing. At the enclosure's opening, directly across from the two story home's front doors, he could see a wrought iron arch wrapped in leaves that marked the entrance for a long and narrow path through the thick vegetation of the orchards. He attempted to trace the path to it's end, but he could not. The long and straight path seemed to lead all the way down through the sprawling green canopy and to the snow-capped mountains far, far off in the distance. The more he could see of the property and it's beautiful, untouched, natural surroundings, the more he could see himself enjoying working there.

A young red-headed filly lazily laying about on the porch with her legs tucked under her was the first pony to come into view. He descended, landing softly and soundlessly on the patchy ground in front of the large wooden stoop. "Excuse me, miss?" He said. "I'm answering the add in the paper. Could you please direct me to this Applejack I'm suppose to speak to?"

She perked her little head up and sleepily blinked her amber eyes a few times as if she had just been roused from a nap. "What the, huh? You what?"

"The job," Soarin repeated as he approached the porch. "I'm here for the job specified in the paper."

"Oh, the job," the filly yawned. She stretched her legs out before raising to her hooves. "Come inside, I'll interview ya."

"Wait, so, you're Applejack?"

The filly's red mane swung around as she turned to answer him with a mischievous smile. "No, Ah ain't, but Ah'm a member of the Apple family, which would still make me yer boss, if Ah decide to hire ya that is. Now, step into mah office, won't ya please?" With a flick of her mane she continued to saunter her way into the home, pulling the bottom dutch door open and letting it close behind her on it's rusty hinges. "Oh, and if ya DO get the job, yer first chore is going to be oiling that freakin' door." Her voice resounded from inside the home.

Soarin was more or less amused by the filly's behavior. He decided to go along with this little game of hers, curious to see where it would lead. He followed her path through the dutch door, opening both the top and bottom sections and entering through the doorway to find him self standing in a large living room. He noticed a stair case to his left that led to the second tier of the house, and a pair of swinging doors to his right where the filly waited for him. He noted the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room and a corridor on the far right corner that led to another section of the house. It more than likely led to a den. He began to wonder if that's where he would be residing if he got the job. He jumped when the dutch doors suddenly creaked and slammed behind him with a loud thump.

The little red head giggled amusedly before gesturing with a turn of her head to follow her through the batwing doors, which presumably lead to 'her office.' Soarin noted with amusement that the little filly was barely tall enough for the bow in her mane to just slightly brush by the bottom of the swinging doors as she entered. He followed her, pushing the doors aside, and looking around to find himself now standing in the kitchen.

"Have a seat," The filly said, gesturing to a chair at the table before pulling out a stool for herself.

"Alright..." Soarin pulled a flimsy wooden chair out from under the able and sat. He listened uneasily as the chair creaked in protest, feeling as if it might give out under his weight at any moment.

The two just stared at each other from across the table. The awkward silence was becoming more than the ex-Wonderbolt could bare. "So," he said, "nice place. I could really see myself enjoying living here."

"It's been in the family for three generations now." The filly stated proudly. "A lot of ponies wouldn't understand, but we're all mighty proud of our little farm here; It's our home and it's our coffin... Hope that don't sound too morbid for ya."

"Not at all. It sounds nice. You really sound like you know where you belong in life; that's amazing at such a young age. To tell you the truth, I still don't know where I belong. I envy you." Soarin couldn't help but feel a sudden twinge of melancholy. The little red head looked as if she felt sympathy for him, which only exacerbated Soarin's emotional wound. "I sometime feel like I'm a burden to others. My former co-workers - I sometimes feel like they would have been better off if I had never came into their lives. It's hard to know what your goals and priorities are when you can't even find a paved road that leads you there. I'm sorry if that sounds weird, but knowing where you belong in life is truly a blessing in of itself."

"If the road to a goal is paved for ya, there ain't no point in travelin' it," came a thick southern-accented voice from behind. Soarin whipped his head around and noticed a golden earth pony digging through a cupboard. The stranger selected a large glass bottle filled with a tangy amber fluid before sauntering to the table and taking a seat next to him.

"So, pardner," he began while pouring the fluid into a glass, the intermingled sour yet sweet aroma of whisky and apples instantly permeating the room. "What's do Ah call ya?" he pushed the glass and slid it across the table to Soarin before taking a generous pull from the mouth of the bottle for himself.

The filly placed her forelimbs over her chest and puffed out her cheeks with a pouting frown. "Ah, Come on Braeburn, Ah was gonna interview him!"

"Now, little darlin', it was yer sister who done put me in charge of the interviewin' process. Why dontcha go'n play with them little paladin friends'o yers?"

"Crusaders," the filly corrected.

The cowboy removed his hat and tussled his mane before setting a heavy hind hoof on the table. "Yeah, yeah, crusaders. Sorry 'bout that, cuz. Why don't y'all go 'n see a movie?"

Soarin noticed instantly that this Braeburn character didn't look at all like how he sounded. His deep southern drawl was so thick that he was barely able to understand what the guy was saying. He had the stride and mannerisms of the classic tough guy cowboy you'd see in the old western flicks, but his angelic face, golden mane and perfectly sculpted body made him look more like a model than a cowboy.

"I'd really like to do that, but we used up all our bits when we bought a pie cannon for the club house. We can't afford to go see no movie."

"That so?" The cowboy dug into his vest and dropped a small burlap bag on the edge of the table, which made a metallic jingling noise as it landed. He again leaned back in his chair with a laid back smile. "That should be enough for the three of ya, Ah think."

The filly hopped on to the table and undid the lace with a light tug. She opened the bag and surveyed its contents before her eyes lit up with an exuberant smile. "Thank you, cuz!" She squealed before leaping across the table and embracing the stallion around his neck in an affectionate hug.

"Ain't no thang, sweetheart," he chuckled. "Go on, now. The big ponies need ta' talk."

"Kay, thanks, bye!" The redhead said excitedly before taking the bag of bits in her mouth and leaping down from the table. She nodded to Soarin as if to wish him luck in getting the job before skipping away happily and bumping her head on the bottom of the batwing doors at the kitchen's entrance."Celestia buckin' pony feathers!"

"Watch yer mouth, sweetheart," The cowboy chided in a mild tone.

"Sorry," came the filly's voice from the living room before the creaking dutch door could be heard opening then slamming.

"Now, then," the cowboy said, "that just leaves us. Ah hope ya came ready ta' work."

Soarin looked down at the pungent amber liquid in his glass. He then slowly lifted the rim to his lips and took a cautionary sip. The sourness and power of the beverage instantly overwhelmed his senses and scorched his esophagus as if it were liquid fire, but he tried his hardest not to show it in front of the cowboy, worried that he may be offended by his reaction. Being the horrible liar that he was, he decided to change the subject before the stallion asked him his opinion on the foul liquor."So, you're just going to hire me? No interview? No questions? You're not even asking for a resume?" he choked out through his sour whisky-drenched throat.

Braeburn once again put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and chugged down two deep gulps as if the unpalatable fluid was water. He then set the half-empty container down on the wooden table with a dull thud and said, "Mister, let me tell ya a little somethin' about us Apple family kin: 'round here, we use our actions to speak for us. Ah could ask ya a million questions, an' you could have an answer for every single one, but Ah'd still know nothin' about ya. Ah gotta see ya in action before Ah can know what yer truly worth to us."

Strangely enough, the cowboy's words made more sense to Soarin than anything he had ever heard in his life. He smiled, feeling a slight sense of admiration for this Apple family wisdom."If only politics worked the same way."

The boisterous cowboy let out a hearty laugh in response and gave Soarin a friendly punch in the leg that numbed his nerve endings all the way to the bone. "Hell, Ah like you, pardner! Now come on, we got work to do." He sprang energetically from his seat and pushed open the swinging doors. "Comin'?"

"Yeah... I'm coming." Soarin rubbed his arm and cursed under his breath before getting up and hobbling his way through the kitchen's exit.

* * *

><p>*THWACK*<p>

Soarin bucked the unyielding tree with all his might and watched with discouragement as only two apples fell from it's branches. "Seriousy? I put everything I had into that kick!"

"Already told ya, it ain't about power: It's about precision and technique. Here, let me show ya again." Braeburn approached the tree, turned away from it, and kicked it with a perfectly executed buck. Every apple in the tree rained down around the cowboy in a downpour of golden delicious while Soarin could only watch in dismay.

"Witchcraft!" He said accusingly. "There is no other explanation as to how you can do this!"

"Ah ain't usin' no fancy unicorn parlor tricks."

"Performance enhancing drugs then! You're on the moon sugar, aren't you?"

Braeburn threw his head head back and laughed. "You are a hoot!"

Soarin's eyes narrowed in irritation before approaching another tree. He crouched his hind legs in preparation for another kick before the cowboy intervened. "Make sure to bring yer legs in closer 'fore ya buck em out, and remember to throw yer weight into the direction of yer kick. Try not to lock yer elbows when you spring up with your hind legs. And remember, eighty percent of your power comes from your flanks and yer hind quarters. Think about all that while ya kick; the more ya do it, the more yer muscle memory will take over for ya."

Soarin sprang his hind legs upward and bent his knees as close to his belly as he could get them, then he let his hooves return to the ground. He practiced this a few times, making sure his form would be exact to his tutor's instruction.

"Nice," the cowboy critiqued with an approving nod. "Ya got the technique down, now let's see ya apply it."

With a deep breath, Soarin sprang his hind legs from the earth, brought his legs in, shifted his weight toward the tree, and kicked as hard as he could. The impact resonated through the tree's base with a loud thump as it's branches surrendered their fruit to him.

"Very nice!" Braeburn cheered.

Soarin watched the fruit fall and hit the ground all around him with a proud smile, but when he looked up he grimaced when he noticed how many apples still clung defiantly from the branches above, swinging and swaying, but not falling, almost as if they were mocking him. The irritated stallion kicked the tree again, knocking even more apples from the tree. Then he kicked again, and again, and again until every piece of rebellious fruit lay defeated on the ground before him. Soarin sat back on his haunches to catch his breath while he surveyed the bare tree. "This kind of work is surprisingly therapeutic."

Braeburn gave Soarin an approving nod. "Yep. There's nothin' on Celestia's earth that cleanses the body, mind, and soul like a hard day's work. Now, let's get these apples in the cart and move on. We still have a few dozen barrels we gotta fill before lunch."

Soarin's eyes widened. "Did you say a dozen barrels? Before lunch? That sounds like more than an entire day's work." He looked back at his legs that were already beginning to burn.

"Nope," the cowboy corrected. "Ah said **a couple** dozen. Maybe we can call it a day after that. Ah don't wanna burn you out on your first day. Besides, Applejack is gonna want to meet you. In the end, she'll be the one who ultimately decides if you stay or go. Ah'm only here to show you the ropes. Ah hope you ain't steppin' into anything yer not sure you can handle, partner. Today is child's play compared to what a full day 'round here on your own will be like."

"Well, what's a full day like?" Soarin asked, dreading in anticipation for the cowboy's response.

"Well, the roosters'll wake ya up around five... Or four... depends on the season."

Soarin cringed. "...Uh huh... Go on..."

"When ya wake up, you can head in to the house for some grub before ya start yer day. Granny Smith makes the best cornbread'n gravy you've ever had."

"Head in to the house? I won't be sleeping in the house?"

"Nah, they got you yer own place to bed down at. It's the old barn at the far corner of the horse fence enclosure. It's the one not too far from the Apple family house. They don't use that old thing anymore, it's been around since Granny Smith was a little filly. They decided to go ahead and use it as the quarters for the farmhand - that's you. It ain't a bad place to stay in, though. Replace the broken windows, spray it for vermin, fix the floor boards, add a fresh coat of paint, sweep it out, fix the hole in the roof, call a Celestian to perform a blessing on it and it'll be good as new. Heck, Ah'm sure you'll love it once you move all your stuff in to it. Ah'll help ya with that, if you'd like."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait... Did you say call a Celestian?"

"Apple Bloom thinks it might be haunted," Braeburn replied with a nonchalant shrug. "You can shrug that stuff off as superstition if you'd like, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Great, so I get to wake up at four in the morning after sleeping in the Amityville barn house..." Soarin muttered.

"After breakfast," Braeburn continued, "you'll be tendin' to the livestock: Feedin' em, shovelin' out their pens, that sort of thing - then you'll pretty much be buckin' apples for the rest of the day. You'll have lunch, then it's back to work. At the end of the work day, you'll be takin' the barrels filled with all the apples ya harvested, and yer gonna be storin' em in the cellar. Them barrels'r pretty heavy, so you'll be carryin' em down one-by-one. You'll probably be makin' about twenty four to thirty trips up and down them stairs - dependin' on how many barrels you was able to fill, of course. After all that's done, you'll be reportin' to Applejack to receive your pay for the day. She'll also be giving you additional assignments if there's anything else 'round here that need's doin' or fixin'."

Soarin tried with all his might to not openly express his displeasure at everything the cowboy had just listed to him: having to sleep in a destitute, worn down shanty, waking up at four in the morning every day, spending his entire day kicking trees, then having to haul that cart around that he swore must have weighed at least a metric ton. The thought to go crawling back to his former team mates crossed his mind, but only for a moment. He pictured that smug smirk on Fleetfoot's face as Spitfire gave her that 'I told you so' grin. That was probably what they expected him to do. His team knew that he had never been very resilient when it came to changes in his life, nor was he good at sticking to his decisions if they were to ultimately lead down a difficult path, but he refused to go back on this one. The very thought of doing so, the very notion that he would consider groveling to Spitfire after that big scene he had made in Cloudsdale enraged him. This job wasn't really **that** bad considering everything he used to have to put up with.

"I'm not going back!" Soarin blurted as if he were speaking to his former captain.

"D'you say somethin', pardner?" Braeburn's voice suddenly brought Soarin back to the present.

Soarin's eyes flashed with renewed vigor and a sense of complacency suddenly took him. "Nah, just thinking out loud," he responded. "What do you say we get back to work? These apples aren't gonna buck themselves."

"Ah like yer attitude!" Braeburn replied in an upbeat, encouraging tone. "Ah think we found our new farmhand. AJ is the one that still makes that decision, but with a go-get-em attitude like that, yer gonna be a shoo-in."

Soarin absolutely refused to go crawling back to Spitfire. This was obviously a trial of his fortitude, and he refused to let it beat him. He paused to take one more breath and appreciate his natural surroundings before approaching his second tree of the day. "I'm ready for anything. No matter how hard or rough the terrain may be, no matter how many bumps I hit or holes I stumble in to on my way, there is nothing that will stop me from this day on. I chose this path for myself, and though it may not be paved for me to simply stroll along it, I'm going to see it all the way through!"

* * *

><p>"I quit... I... I can't do this anymore..." Every muscle in Soarin's body burned as if his veins had been pumping acid. He laid on the ground and foamed from his mouth as he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, his chest rapidly expanding and contracting with his labored breaths. "So tired... Can barely breathe..."<p>

"Yeah, Ah'd say it's about lunch time." Braeburn mused before removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Ah guess a half day will be fine until you're completely caught up to snuff with things 'round here. You know what? Ah know it's up to AJ to do the hirin', but Ah'll do what it takes to convince her to hire ya on. Why don't ya relax for the rest of the day? Maybe we can move some of yer things into yer new place?"

Soarin let out a raspy cough before responding. "I don't own anything. I have nothing to my name — and I don't think I can get up. I think you should tell Applejack that she'll need to wait a little while longer before somepony more suited to this kind of work comes along," he said as a feeling of hopelessness washed over him. Every time he tried to compensate or comfort himself with the poor excuse that he was a Pegasus and not an earth pony, that he just simply wasn't built for this kind of labor, one word would end up popping back in his mind. 'Quitter.' Soarin was a quitter. He knew it, and there was no way he could delude himself from that fact. He quit the Wonderbolts over a petty spat that lead to hurt feelings, and he was quitting this.

Braeburn looked down sadly at the broken stallion who laid before him. "That's too bad, partner. Is there anyway Ah could get you to reconsider?"

"No... I'm sorry to have wasted your time. Tell your cousin that it didn't work out. Tell her that I'm sorry."

"Ah think you can tell her yourself. She usually takes her lunch at the house. Why don't ya go on down and see her? Ah'll go ahead and get these barrels to the cellar for ya."

"Fine... Thanks for everything." Soarin muttered weakly before shambling to his hooves. He nodded a farewell to the cowboy, who silently nodded back before he focused himself on his task of hitching the wagon. Thankfully the house wasn't too far from where they were. He could see it through the clearing of the trees in the distance, but his legs still burned like blazes. He decided to fly the short way back to the house.

He landed softly on the patchy dirt in front of the home and looked around for her. He figured that since her name sounded familiar she'd be easy for him to recognize once he saw her. He suddenly heard a trickling noise coming from the side of the house. "Miss Applejack?" he called out

"Whose that?" a female voice called out. "Ah'm over here near the well pump."

Soarin winced with every step as he made his way to the side of the house. The moment he saw her standing near the pump, memories of her came fleeting back to him. She was indeed familiar to him - the hat was an instant tip. It was the mare who sold him those sinfully delicious pies at the gala. He even recalled that she was in that small group that watched him as he chewed his former captain out the other day. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for forgetting her so easily, but his chaotic and busy life as a Wonderbolt made it much too difficult to be bothered with remembering a mare he had only seen maybe twice a year. "Miss Applejack?" He called out to her again.

"Ah'll be with ya in a minute, sugar cube." She removed her hat, set it on the ground, and undid the band around her golden ponytail. Upon its liberation from its bind her hair fell and swayed all around her head and neck like a disorganized mess of honey-colored silk strands.

Soarin didn't know if it was simply the fact that he was a Wonderbolt and simply never had the time to notice her beauty up close in her natural environment, or if maybe the dress she had always worn at the gala kept her assets hidden away from him. The only thing he could now think of at that moment is how hot she was. Hot... Was that the appropriate word?

She lifted the wooden bucket and spilled its contents over her, letting the grime of her labor roll off of her back. Her sopping wet coat clung to her feminine frame and revealed every dip and curve of her body to Soarin, who suddenly found himself studying her in a way she may perceive as offensive if discovered. She whipped her sopping wet mane around to one side and turned to look at him with the warmest smile anyone had ever given him. "You the new guy? Welcome to Sweet Apple Acr— Wait, don't Ah know you? What are you doin' here?"

Hot. Yes. Searing. Blazing. Burning. Even Soarin himself started to feel a little hot around his cheeks and ears as she eyed him... "Hello~ farmer's daughter..."

"What's that, now?" She asked, tilting her head to the side with a cocked eyebrow.

Soarin no longer felt his muscles aching or burning. He forgot all about his pain, emotional, and physical. It was as if all the negativity he felt burned up in the wave of heat that was now searing his cheeks red. He smiled and said, "Yes, I am the new guy. Soarin is my name." Maybe sticking it out and working here for a little while longer wouldn't be so bad after all...


	2. A debt repaid

Luna's shroud of twilight had crept along the farm land of Sweet Apple Acres and blanketed the orchards in her embrace, bringing with it the nightly symphony of the surrounding nocturnal wildlife. Soarin admired the encompassing sights and sounds of the farm as well as the rural starlit sky as he made his way to his dilapidated hovel, a pack filled with pillows and blankets provided by his employers on his back. Granny Smith and Applejack were rather accommodating to him upon informing them of his situation, that he lacked even the most basic of necessities such as bedding. They had even offered him a couch from their den as a house warming gift, but he had politely declined. As destitute as the Stallion's situation seemed, he still had plenty of money left over from his previous occupation; it would guilt him to accept something so charitable when he was actually well-off in terms of finances.

Soarin had finally cleared the patchy ground between the house and the barn with a hitch in his stride as his muscles were still sore from his day's labor. This was the moment he had been dreading for some time now: it was time to see his new living quarters. He took one last longing look at the cozy-looking two story homestead across the field before slowly pulling the barn door open. The hinges that were black and rusty from the decades of neglect made a harsh metal-on-metal grinding sound; the creak that emanated from the hinges of the Apple family home suddenly seemed like a beautiful siren's song in comparison.

Soarin stepped in to his new home and looked around for a light switch, but he couldn't find one. "Of course there's no light switch," he groused. He was just beginning to surmise that the construction of the old barn may have even predated the discovery of electricity when he stumbled on an object in the darkness. If he wasn't so weak and sore he may have been alert and responsive enough to catch himself as he fell, but the exhausted stallion tumbled and hit the ground. He cursed under his breath as he glowered in the direction of whatever it was he had just tripped on. Reaching out and groping around for the object - he took it in his hooves and raised it to the beams of moonlight that shined through the massive hole in the barn's roof. It's brass bottom and glass body reflected a pale glow and he realized that it was an old kerosene lantern. "A valuable antique," he mused as he examined the archaic device. He gave the flint nob an experimental twist and, much to his surprise, the wick inside of the glass cylinder came to life with a dancing flame. "Must have been recently used."

No longer blind, Soarin lifted the lamp level with his face and observed his new surroundings. It was now comprehensible as to why Apple Bloom could think this worn down structure was haunted; if he could rewind time back to when he was eight years old, he may have thought the same thing. The first object he noticed was a derelict scarecrow in the corner, which cast an unsettling dancing shadow in the orange glow of the lantern; the twisted stitched smile, the black soulless button eyes, the Freddy Krueger-esque red and green plaid shirtand wide-brimmed hat it adorned didn't make it any less chilling to gaze upon. An old harvesting scythe hung from a nail on the wall next to some rusted old gardening sheers that looked as if they were large enough to decapitate a Minotaur with one snip. Black and brown corroded chains once used as a pulley for storing larger equipment over head hung and swung loosely from the rafters. There did not seem to be one floor board that didn't creak in protest to his weight, and every piece of wood that gave support to the structure groaned in agony every time the wind shifted. Soarin contorted his face into a forced optimistic smile, hoping that maybe if he poured some tender love and care into this place, he could upgrade it to a piece of shit.

Overhead he noticed a wooden deck. With a combined leap and one flap of his wings Soarin cleared the twelve foot jump and grappled the ledge and, though his muscles ached, he managed to pull himself up and over the threshold. He held his lantern by his mouth and noticed a pile of straw in the corner. "It's not much, but it'll have to do." He set the lantern down, spread his bedding over the soft straw, and immediately collapsed into it. The stiff stalks would normally irritate him, but in his fatigued state he might as well have been laying on a cloud - and the warm glow of his lamp provided a comforting aura of soothing heat. He gave no more thought to his surroundings, the vermin that were most likely all around him and could be ready to attack at any moment, or even his former team. The last thing he felt was that of his eyelids becoming unbearably heavy, and he lost consciousness the moment he closed them.

* * *

><p>Soarin was suddenly stirred from his sleep by a mysterious creaking from somewhere in his barn. He opened his eyes and his heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was standing over him, her emerald eyes and golden hair glowing in the dimming light of the kerosene lamp. "AJ?" Soarin turned his head and looked at the ledge of the second story deck, then he looked back at her. "How'd you get up here?" With a playful giggle the cowgirl gently placed her hooves on Soarin's chest to balance herself as she swung a hind leg over him, straddling him with a provocative smile on her face.<p>

"A-AJ, w-what are you..." Soarin's words escaped him with a quivering sigh when she leaned down and gently kissed him up and down his neck. The blushing stallion could feel his blood heating as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back for her, enjoying the sensual caress of the mare's warm and soft lips. Soarin no longer cared to ask her of her intentions. She was making them quite clear to him. He wanted her the moment he saw her, and it was now obvious that she felt the same way about him. He reached out and affectionately took her in his arms.

"Partner," she purred in his ear.

"Yes? Wait, what did you just call me? What happened to sugarcube?" Soarin's eyes rounded out as her voice suddenly became deeper.

"Yer a good lookin' stallion an' all, but ah prefer mah stallions to be a little more... How should ah put this..? Female."

Soarin's eyes opened and staring right back at him were the quizzical eyes of a bulky golden stallion. It took the somnolent Pegasus's brain a few seconds to register the situation...

"**GAH! BRAEBURN, WHAT THE HELL!?**" He shoved the earth pony back in a panic. "What're you doing in my bed?!"

"Ah was tryin' ta' wake ya when you pulled me on top of you," the cowboy declared in a calm and matter-of-fact tone.

"I thought the roosters were supposed to wake me," Soarin countered.

"Shoot, they stopped crowin' about an hour ago." The cowboy explained. "If Ah would'a known you was one'o them sleep-cuddlers, ah would have kept mah distance and splashed some water on ya, or somethin'."

"Well... I'm sure as hell awake now..." Soarin rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. "Sorry, I guess I'm not use to waking up this early yet. AJ isn't mad at me, is she?"

"Ain't seen her since breakfast, but she didn't seem too miffed about yer absence. Ah asked if she wanted me ta' go get ya, but she said she had somethin' special planned for ya tonight. Said she wanted ya to be rested up."

"What happens tonight?"

Braeburn shrugged. "Dunno, but she said she wanted to talk to ya about it when ya woke up."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Last Ah saw, she was headin' for the cellar."

"I guess that's where I'm headed, then." Soarin stretched before rolling out of his crude makeshift bed. He walked passed Braeburn and approached the ledge of the deck, spying the ladder Braeburn must have used to gain access to the upper level. "So, that's how you got up here?"

"Yup," Braeburn replied, "Ah tried callin' out to ya from down below, but you was dead to the world. Sorry if Ah startled ya."

"And I'm sorry I violated your personal space — no one has to know about that, right?"

"Shoot, you think Ah want anyone knowin' about that?"

That was all Soarin needed to hear. Feeling too awkward to carry on with his conversation, he studied the large hole in the roof of his barn and spread his wings. "I'll go see what AJ wants with me."

"No problem. Ah'm gonna be helping Big Mac out in the orchards if ya need me."

"Sure," Soarin said, "and again, I'm sorry for...You know." Soarin looked back and gestured to his bed with a flick of his muzzle.

"It's alright," Braeburn said with a lighthearted chortle. "Next time I'll get Big Mac ta' come wake ya up. He likes ta' cuddle, too."

That was Soarin's cue to end this awkward conversation before it got any stranger. "I'll, uh, catch you later, Braeburn," he bade before turning around and taking flight through the hole in his roof, leaving the cowboy to his own devices as he made his way to the apple cellar. He soared over the sprawling green and brown field, cleared the house, and sped to the far corner of the enclosure until the wooden double doors were seen hanging open on their hinges, which most likely indicated that Applejack was still present. He landed at the head of the stairs and descended down the underground hallway, taking in the sweet aroma of the stored fruit while the rhythmic clop of his hooves resonated through the narrow hall. He entered the dimly-lit underground storage area at the foot of the stairs and noticed Applejack rummaging through a wooden barrel among the rows of vacant and half-filled racks.

"How ya doin', sugarcube?" She greeted before Soarin could announce his presence to her.

"Rested and ready to work, madam captain," he responded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, trying to push the fact out of his mind that he had nearly just molested her cousin in his sleep while having an erotic dream about her.

Applejack chuckled. "You don't gotta address me with them fancy titles, Mr. Hotshot Wonderbolt."

"Yes Captain. Madam, I mean! I meant AJ! Dammit! You know what? Let's start over again! Hello, my name is Soarin, and I'm here for the job in the paper!" Soarin playfully extended his hoof to her in the hopes that his silly antics would distract from the ineloquent way he was carrying himself. It would seem that addressing his boss by any other title than captain was going to take some getting use to.

Applejack chuckled in response before she removed an apple from the barrel. She examined it with a scrupulous gaze, then dropped it in a satchel bag that she wore at her flank. Soarin watched with mild amusement as she did this, unsure as to what could be going in to her seemingly strenuous process of selecting a piece of fruit. Any apple that wasn't black and putrid seemed fine to him, but he decided to keep his opinions to himself.

"Did ya know that it's Rainbow Dash's birthday today?" She asked while looking over another apple she had selected. "We're planning a party for her and I'll bet she'd get real kick out'a you bein' there, Mr. Wonderbolt."

"Rainbow Dash? It's her birthday?"

"Yup, an' If ah'm not mistakin', ya'll know each other pretty well, don't ya?"

Of course Soarin knew Rainbow Dash. He had nothing but admiration for her for saving his life on several different occasions: the most recent one being the incident at Rainbow Falls. He owed a debt to her that he feared he would never be able to repay. "It's Dashie's special day, huh? I'd like to see her, but I'm not a Wonderbolt anymore."

Applejack dropped another apple in her bag before she responded. "Yeah, Ah know that, but Ah still think she'd get a kick out'a you showin' up to her party."

Soarin scratched his chin as he mused over what would be an appropriate gift for someone who has saved his life not once, but twice. Not to mention all the times he had read about her saving the world with her friends whenever the crown or the fate of Equestria hung in the balance. "I wouldn't even know what to get her as a gift..."

"That brings me to the other thing Ah needed to talk to ya about."

"I'm listening," Soarin said attentively.

Applejack paused and looked back at Soarin with an expression that was difficult to read. She hesitated and shifted her eyes around for a moment. "You, uh, still got that flight suit of yers?"

"It's probably still in my quarters back in the academy."

"Oh... Okay... Well, Rainbow Dash is kinda— she likes to collect Wonderbolts memorabilia... And Ah was thinkin' that... Maybe since ya ain't gonna be usin' it no more..."

"She can have it," Soarin offered with a smile as he realized what it was the stammering mare was requesting of him.

"Really?!" Applejack's face lit up with a grateful smile. "Ya mean it? Ah mean, Ah know it must have some sentimental value to you, an' all. A-Ah feel real bad for askin' you to give somethin' away that must be so precious to you."

"AJ, it's okay, I'm not a big fan of holding on to the past. If you think it would make Rainbow Dash happy, I'm more than happy to oblige."

Much to Soarin's surprise Applejack suddenly bounded toward him and locked him in a firm hug, dropping her satchel and spilling it's contents in the process. "Sugarcube, you are sweeter than granny's cinnamon apple fritters! Thank you so, so much! Ah can't wait ta' see the look on Rainbow Dash's face when she sees it! Name your price. Don't be shy, now. What would you say giving that suit up would be worth to ya?"

That familiar heat flashed through Soarin's body as she embraced him. He brought his arms up to return her hug, but he quickly thought better of it and brought them back down, fearing that he may make the moment awkward if he did. "I don't really want anythi—"

"Oh, shush!" Applejack cut him off and looked up at him with a determined smile. "There's gotta be somethin' Ah could give you in return, now spit it out - an' Ah don't want ta' hear ya say you don't want nothin'!"

Soarin was taken aback by the mare's firm tone. He quickly thought of what he could possibly take from her without feeling like a jerk as this stubborn mare obviously wasn't going to take "nothing" for an answer. There was one thing that he could think of, but he couldn't be sure how she'd react to his request. "I don't suppose you dance?"

"Dance?" Applejack released Soarin and inspected him with an inquisitive gaze. "Yea, Ah can dance pretty good. Why?"

The diffident stallion chose his next words carefully so as to not seem as if he was advancing on her in a way that she may perceive as intrusive. "If there's going to be dancing at Dash's party, maybe you can save one for me? A dance with you is all the payment I could want."

Applejack cocked her eyebrow at him. "You want me to pay you for the flight suit with a dance?"

Soarin quickly regretted his request. He rubbed an abashed hoof over the back of his neck and looked away from her, feeling her dubious look draining what little bit of confidence he had. "I-I'm pretty good at dancing — It's always been a guilty pleasure of mine. Spitfire used to make me take dancing lessons so I wouldn't embarrass her at the gala," he offered.

"Ah guess that would be fine," she responded before she turned and knelt down to collect the apples she had spilled. "If yer sure that's all ya want."

"That's all I can really think of," Soarin replied, but Applejack either didn't hear him or didn't care to respond. The cellar fell silent as he watched her sweep the remaining apples in to her bag with one reaping swipe of her leg. He decided to excuse himself before the silence would become uncomfortable. "Well, I guess I have my orders, then. I'll come back as soon as I have that flight suit."

"Sugarcube, Ah ain't ordering you around," replied Applejack. "Why don't ya go ahead and take the day off? Maybe that'll give ya some time ta' get whatever it is ya need ta' get done before Dash's party tonight." She then looked back at him with that warm smile of hers. It was that same inviting smile she gave him when he first noticed her by the well pump. That smile would forever haunt him as it would always evoke the memory of her soaking wet figure glistening like gold in the rays of the sun. It was the look that Soarin had to quickly retreat from before his wings could involuntarily shoot out like a reversed bear trap and knock a barrel rack over - which would most likely arouse his boss's ire. Without another word Soarin quickly nodded to her, about-faced, and retreated up the stairs as quickly, but casually as he dared, hoping that his sudden haste wouldn't stimulate the farm girl's curiosity. "Thanks again, sugarcube!" Applejack's honeyed voice echoed and chased Soarin up the stairs as he fled.

Soarin stopped and looked longingly down the stairs, wishing his mind could come up with some sort of clever farewell to leave her with, but he could think of nothing. With a blank mind and a task that demanded his immediate attention he reluctantly turned and made his way through the cellar's double doors.

* * *

><p>Warm and tender nostalgic memories welled up within Soarin as he trotted across the desolate campus of the Wonderbolts academy. It hadn't been that long since he had last been here, but it felt strange knowing that he would most likely never see it from the inside again. Every where he looked, everything he saw, every cloud and every structure of the campus grounds had what felt like a thousand memories attached to them. He strolled along the cloud-paved area between the colt's and filly's dormitories, then flew to the roof tops, looking down and remembering the exact spot where he had had his first kiss with the girl he would always meet up with after curfew. Soarin chuckled cockily to himself. "And the instructors never caught us." He looked out and across the courtyard from the dormitory roof, where the celebration in his honor was held upon becoming a Wonderbolt. He remembered how much fun it was: the proud look on his parents' faces, his friends' painful gauntlet of congratulatory punches he had to go through. He took it all in as if he rewound time to relive it all. All his good memories, and even some of the bad ones. He could recall the day when he was informed by an attendant that his dad had passed away on the same day his girlfriend broke up with him. If that hadn't actually happened to him, it might have sounded like a good subject for a country song or a soap opera.<p>

Soarin then made his way to the Wonderbolts' quarters as he suddenly remembered the reason for which he originally came. He touched down at the center of the yard between the identical, symmetrically-constructed homes and read out the names printed on the tags on the doors until he came to his. He pushed the door open and immediately made his way to his closet, where the one garment of clothing he owned awaited him. He retrieved his suit, stuffed it in a plastic bag, and walked back down the hall to his living area where a dark blue Pegasus was now standing. "Wavechill?" Soarin forced a smile, but secretly wished he could have come out of this ordeal a little more stealthily.

The dark blue Pegasus suddenly sped toward Soarin, leaving a trail of tears in his wake before tackling him to the ground. "Soarin, you magnificent bastard, you're back! Spitfire told us all that you abandoned us, but I knew better!"

"**I** abandoned **you**?" Soarin scoffed. "I wouldn't have quit in the first place if they hadn't been the ones to leave me behind all the time."

Wavechill extended his hoof to Soarin and said, "Yeah, I feel ya. I felt like you were in the right, but Spitfire's influence reigns supreme at the academy, and she's painting you to be the bad guy in this. She's seriously pissed off about them not qualifying for the games this year. Says it's all your fault."

"Oh, so the Wonderbolts didn't qualify?" Soarin asked with a vindictively triumphant smirk as he accepted his former teammates hoof. "So sad to hear that." Wavechill pulled him up to his hooves without caring to acknowledge Soarin's callous statement.

"So, what's your plan, man? Are you coming back?"

"No, I'm just here to get my suit."

"Ah, I got ya. Gonna hang on to those memories, huh?"

"You could say that..."

"That's cool, that's cool. Just don't let Spitfire catch you. She's still fuming about you abandoning—"

"**I** was the one who was abandoned!' Soarin corrected hotly. "I'm not going to bore you with the details, but Spitfire was the one who abandoned me! Once again! They should have never dragged me to Rainbow falls if they thought I would be so useless in the first place! Whatever yarn Spitfire spun to you was a lie! She's the captain, though, so whatever she says **becomes** the truth by default, I suppose!" Soarin bared his teeth and blew out a puff of steam from his nostrils as he felt his emotional wound reopening.

"Alright, alright, calm down!" Wavechill raised a defensive hoof and cautiously stepped away. "You can rant and rave about it all you want, but it's not going to change the fact that Spitfire has it out for you now, and Fleetfoot is backing everything she says."

"Why am I not surprised?" Soarin growled.

"Soarin... Man, I don't know what to say." Wavechill looked sympathetically at him before he hung his head and stared mournfully at the ground. "It's messed up. But it's like you said: she's the captain. If there is any kind of revenge you have won out of this, it's that they'll have a problem finding a replacement for you before it's time for us to go on tour again. Picking a Wonderbolt out of the crowd of our cadets isn't an easy task. Rainbow Dash is the first one that comes to my mind, but I think Spitfire is secretly worried she'd eventually end up replacing her as the captain."

"Yeah," Soarin agreed and looked at the plastic bag that contained his flight suit. He forgot about his own problems for that moment and went back to his regrets about the gift he would present to Rainbow Dash on her birthday. A worn out old hand-me-down with no use other than to collect dust simply wasn't a befitting gift for someone who has saved his life on numerous occasions. "I haven't a doubt in my mind that Rainbow Dash could make an excellent captain. She has more raw skill than anyone else I have met, but she still needs more experience under her belt. Getting **in** to the Wonderbolts would be the first step, though." The gears in Soarin's mind began to turn and grind with his last statement. He could practically feel the warmth of the metaphoricallight bulb glowing over his head as a smile slowly crept across his face. Wavechill found himself backing even further away from him.

"Soarin, are you feeling alright?"

"I have an idea. The gift. My debt. Getting the last laugh on Spitfire. It's the perfect plan!" Without another word Soarin left his former dwelling, leaving a confused Wavechill to puzzle over his actions as he took quick strides toward Sptfire's quarters. With out hesitation he knocked hard and loud on the captain's door and waited patiently for her to answer. The moment the door opened, the edges of Spitfire's eyes sharpened into a searing hot glare before she grabbed Soarin around the neck, pulled him through her doorway, and pinned him against the wall.

"I knew you'd come crawling back!"

"I knew you'd miss me," Soarin laughed.

Spitfire pulled him from the wall only to slam him back into it. "Your pathetic little fit of butthurt cost Cloudsdale the Equestria games! You made a fool out of not only yourself, but all of us!"

"Yeah, yeah, a terrible tragedy. Truly!" Soarin taunted with mock remorse, which only seemed to further infuriate his former captain.

"I hope you're not here to ask for your position back, because I already tore up your contract."

"That's good, now you're going to write up a new one."

"Excuse me?!"

"I'm calling in a debt you owe."

"The only thing I owe you is a couple smacks upside the head for that stunt you pulled!"

"Not a debt to me. A debt to Rainbow Dash. Did you know it's her birthday today?"

"What does that have to do with me? And I don't recall being indebted to her!"

"Really? Because if it wasn't for her, your body would most likely be the consistency of a cheese pizza right along side mine and that spazmatic unicorn with the gaudy butterfly wings."

"That doesn't mean I owe her, Soarin! She did the same thing for us that we would have done for her. No more, no less."

"Suppose I tell everyone about how you whimpered like a baby after that dragon trapped you against that mountain a few years back?"

Spitfire's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare..."

Soarin suddenly placed the back of his hoof over his head in a dramatic display. "Oh, I thought I was going to be left for dead under that bell! I saw my life flashing before my eyes! I don't want to die a virgin!" He then gave his former captain a coy wink. He noted with satisfaction the sudden perturbed expression on her face, the shame in her eyes, the bead of sweat running down her forehead. He had always figured he'd be able to use that fit of post traumatic hysteria as a bargaining chip one day; when you're the captain of the most elite flying team in all of Equestria, your reputation is everything, and he knew that news like this would absolutely destroy her if it got out. Soarin could feel Spitfire's grip around his neck loosening. Her furious gaze slowly softened to a slightly annoyed frown.

"What do you want, Soarin?" Spitfire conceded with a reluctant sigh.

Soarin smiled. "How about you, me, and a few members of the team have a little discussion over lunch? I know a nice little diner where the cutest little waitress works."


	3. A family lost

The extravagance of Rainbow Dash's birthday/anniversary celebration had reached a level of epic that no one could have anticipated thanks to the combined efforts of Pinkie Pie, the resident party planner, and a traveling party pony named Cheese Sandwich. The meeting of these two ponies ultimately resulted in a social event that dwarfed even the Grand Galloping Gala in all its decadence: Streamers and confetti fired from party cannons rained over the roads and covered the streets. Amber brown geysers of cider bubbled and cascaded in the pool of the town fountain. Ponies young and old filled their bellies with barbecued hay burgers, freshly-baked sweets, and cupcake-topped pizza, the slices of which were so large that they could have doubled as an edible blanket after eating the first half and collapsing into a grease and sugar-induced coma. Even Pinkie's mad yet genius experiment, the cherry changa, seemed to go over as a big hit as many a pony were now clamoring for the recipe. Those who were not eating, passed out near the cider fountain, or relaxing in the giant punch bowl were crowded near the large stage at the center of town, enjoying the musical performance of Pinkie Pie as Applejack, Twilight Sparkle, and Rarity provided their services as background dancers.

_Get your hooves up, party's starting out right now_

_Everypony, everypony get down_

_Time to make a wish, better make it right now_

_It's been a year and today is your birthday party_

Ponies near the stage jumped and danced in a state of mirth and merriment. They waved their hooves in the air and the ones who were able to catch on to the main chorus of the song sang along.

_Make a wish, it's your birthday_

_Make a wish, it's your birthday party_

_Make a wish, it's your birthday_

_Make a wish, it's your birthday party_

Pinkie Pie was just coming to the second verse of her song when her tail began to twitch. Her ears flattened back, her mane deflated, then reflated. She stopped singing and looked curiously at the sky. The DJ adjusted the switches on her board and brought the volume of the music down when she noticed Pinkie's strange spasms. The ponies in the crowd, including Rainbow Dash, stopped dancing and looked on at the Pink mare's erratic change in behavior.

Applejack, Twilight Sparkle and Rarity traded curious expressions with one another.

"Darling," Rarity said, "are you feeling all right?"

Pinkie Pie gripped her tail and held it tightly to keep it from trembling. "Something's coming this way!"

A hushed chorus of murmurs broke out all over the crowd in front of the stage. Pinkie Pie's precognitive ability was not a secret to the citizens of Ponyville. The local saying was: When Pinkie's tail starts a twitchin', it was time to stop, look, and listen.

"Do you know what it is?" came a voice from somewhere within the crowd. "Yeah, is it something bad?" Another asked.

Pinkie Pie, guided by her clairvoyant perception, turned her head upward, narrowed her eyes in the direction from which the object was approaching and pointed with her hoof. "Whatever it is, it's coming from that direction. I can't tell if it's anything bad."

The throng of party-goers turned their heads mechanically toward the direction Pinkie was pointing, as well as Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy who were now hovering above the crowd to better their view. All was deathly quiet for that moment. The gentle howl of the rushing wind as it rustled wood and metal chimes on the surrounding houses was the only sound running through the town as all the ponies remained silent and transfixed on the sky.

An object slowly began to materialize far off in the distance. It was small at first - barely a speck that only the keenest of site were able to notice. The ponies squinted and leaned forward in an attempt to identify the airborne enigma as it rapidly closed its distance between them. Some in the crowd yelped with a jolt of surprise when a powerful clap of thunder roared from its direction, and a jet of black smoke followed in its wake like a meteor tearing through the atmosphere. The unidentified flying object's speed then accelerated and a white ring of air rippled from where it broke the sound barrier with an earth shattering boom before in angled a ninety degree turn and dove vertically to the stage. There was no time to warn anyone to get back. The object fell upon them like a falling star, and with a flash of speed it crashed into the center of the stage, sending a web of cracks out in the wooden platform in every direction from its point of impact.

All remained quiet. Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Twilight sparkle, as well as Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, who joined their friends on the stage to look upon whatever it was that was invading their party remained silent, not daring to tear their eyes from whatever it was that lay behind the black veil of smoke. Its form was abstract at first, but its equine features became more and more distinguishable by the second like an apparition forming into view. Its cast elongated as what appeared to be wings protruding from its back stretched out like long menacing fingers set to strangle all within their reach, and with one whip of its wings, the smoke dispersed to reveal the Wonderbolt who stood before them.

Soarin dropped an army green duffel bag on the ground with a heavy metallic thunk. Tendrils of residual smoke lazily wafted from his face and body as he scanned the ocean of party attendants, then he let out an impressed whistle from behind his teeth. He turned to Rainbow Dash and her friends who all still seemed to be in a state of shock and awe. "I wasn't expecting a turnout like this. You're more popular than I thought, Dashie."

"Y-yeah... I'm p-pretty awesome..." Rainbow Dash stammered before she shook her head to regain her faculties. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't extend my felicitations to the birthday girl on her special day?" Soarin countered with a playful laugh.

"You?"

"Me," Soarin agreed with an amused nod.

"You? A Wonderbolt? Attending my birthday party?"

"I'm not a Wonderbolt anymore - I quit, remember?" Soarin turned to his bag, unzipped it, and began to assemble the object he had brought with him. "I often myself thinking..." His speech paused as he looked curiously at two pieces of metal and attempted to figure out how they were supposed to connect, but after some experimental tinkering, he managed to couple their latches together with a careful alignment of the threading, a few twists, and a sharp metallic clack to indicate they were in place. He nodded in satisfaction and continued to speak as he pieced together his obscure instrument. "I often find myself thinking of what the perfect gift would be, you know? Like, what would truly be special? Just about anything in this world can be bought, but what is the one thing in this world you cannot buy someone? Happiness? Not true! You could buy somebody enough bodily chemical altering narcotics to make them blissfully, stupidly happy for the rest of their life. True love? Come on, that's just overrated. Then I figured it out: your dream. The ultimate gift to someone would be their dream to be granted to them. Don't get me wrong, materialism has its place when it comes to gift giving, but I think I have something better in mind for you, Dashie."

Rainbow Dash and her friends tilted their heads and traded bemused looks, perplexed by the former Wonderbolt's vague and ambiguous statements while the sounds of metallic clicks, stripping of duct tape, and the sliding of greased iron threading twisting into place could be heard from the item he was tinkering with.

Pinkie Pie was the first to brake the silence when she started hopping in circles around Soarin as he worked. "So, you're here to grant Dashie her dream? So, you're like a genie, or a magician!? Oh, oh, if you're going to saw a mare in half, I volunteer!"

With one more latching click, Soarin had finished assembling the device. He rested the long tubular object on his back, turned and said with a menacing smile, "I'm no magician - think of me more along the lines as an ordnance-wielding party clown. I was a Wonderbolt, after all. Entertainment is my specialty."

"What the hay?" Applejack blurted. "Ah thought you was gonna give her yer flight suit - not... Whatever that thing is..."

"Wait, what?" Rainbow Dash whipped her head around and cocked a bemused eye at Applejack. "It almost sounds like you knew he was coming to my party. And what's this about him giving me his flight suit?"

Applejack ignored her friend's question and shot Soarin a look that could only be described as a 'what the hell are you doing' expression.

Soarin responded in part with a cocky grin that said 'I know what I'm doing' before he started in the direction of the microphone, the floor that was battered and broken from his clamorous entrance creaking with every step. With a polite dip of his head to Pinkie Pie, she smiled and turned the microphone over to him so that he could address the crowd. The speakers popped and pattered as he gave the mic a few experimental taps, then he unshouldered his now-assembled device and held it out for all in the crowd to behold. "This little piece of hardware, fillies and gentlecolts, is the culmination of what you get when you take the mad geniuses that are the Wonderbolts pyrotechnics team, lock them in a room with a few scraps of metal, some tools, and a crate full of colorful mushrooms and cans of red buffalo. I give you the Combustible Ordinance Launching Tube, or C.O.L.T for short: It operates and functions much like a party cannon, but it's much more portable and easier to load than its bulky predecessor. She fires eighty-eight millimeter custom-made stadium grade firework rockets, it's beautified with a blue cobalt finish, has a hair trigger, a foregrip, and features a recoil-absorbing ergonomic stock for maximum comfort - for the grenadier who simply doesn't have time for a dislocated shoulder. This is only a prototype, but as soon as all the testing is said and done, you will be able to pick these up wherever fireworks are sold. Shop smart. Shop S-mart."

Pinkie Pie's eyes glossed over and her mouth widened in a euphoric smile. "Will they come in pink?"

Chuckling. Soarin shouldered the C.O.L.T, aimed it toward the sky, and fired a rocket that trailed a stream of rainbow colored smoke until it burst in the twilight with the most fantastic display of aerial pyrotechnics the town had ever seen. The mares on stage met Soarin at the front of the platform and gazed with wide eyes and open mouths at the shower of blue, red, green, purple, and gold fire that illuminated the dark with such an intensity, the night sky seamlessly transitioned to day.

"Simply divine!" Exclaimed Rarity.

"One rocket did all of that?" Asked Twilight Sparkle.

"So... Awesome..." Rainbow Dash said, starry eyed and enamored.

"Do they come in pink?!" Repeated an enthusiastic Pinkie Pie.

"This display is nice, but it's probably scaring all the poor animals within the vicinity." Said the sunflower-colored pink-maned killjoy.

Soarin glanced to his left and noticed Applejack standing next to him. She stared in silence, seemingly captivated by the display. The way the light from the bursting showers of sparks and fire illuminated her coat like molten gold, her eyes wide and reflecting the vibrant explosions in the sky - never had she looked so beautiful to him than she did at that moment. It was invigorating to him that she was enjoying the show so much, but it wasn't over yet.

Soarin peered into the sky and waited for the next phase in his surprise for Rainbow Dash to come to fruition. The corners of his mouth upturned when the silhouettes of Spitfire, Fleetfoot, Wave Chill, High Winds, Rapidfire, Blaze, and Lightening Streak became distinctive through the veil of fireworks. The sounds of mild amusement among the crowd escalated to frenzied, clamorous screams of excitement as the Wonderbolts tore through the vibrant firestorm. They traced spiraling patterns of white with the tips of their wings as they ripped through the sky like howling jets flying in a perfect synchronized formation. They dove toward the crowd and dangerously arched just above. The party-goers in front of the stage, now mad with excitement, reached toward them only able to slightly brush them with their hooves as they flew overhead. One of the Wonderbolts, Wave Chill, gave a young colt who was standing on his father's back a high hoof as he passed. Both the child and his father were beyond thrilled by this.

Soarin glanced over at Rainbow Dash to gauge her reaction.

She was hyperventilating with her forelegs tightly wrapped over her chest, almost as if she was trying to keep from falling apart with rapture, her eyes wide, glazed and shimmering. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!" She repeated to herself and rocked back and forth before looking to Soarin. "You had the Wonderbolts perform for me at my birthday!"

Soarin laughed. He figured that Rainbow Dash would be excited, but she was taking it to a level that not even he anticipated. It was kind of cute how, despite her tough tomboyish exterior, she just couldn't fight back her girlish squees of mirth when she was so ecstatic. Soarin did not answer her, however. There was still one more thing for him to do: It was time for him to perform his last aerial stunt with his team.

He returned to his duffel bag and retrieved another rocket. He loaded his launcher, fired it into the sky, and as quick as a snap he was airborne, flying passed the propelling missile he had just fired while carrying the launcher and his bag with him. The Wonderbolts joined him, circled around the rocket and locked arms together.

A nerve-racking calm came over the crowd. The Wonderbolts were too close to the rocket. If it were to burst with them circled around it in such a tight proximity there would be something much more grotesque raining down on them than colorful sparks.

While all the ponies spectated in a suspenseful, hoof-biting hush, the rocket burst and spread forth a colorful nova. The Wonderbolts spread out in opposite directions and outran the ring before dramatically banking in a downward dive. They shifted direction again and flew inward toward each other. The wind around them cracked like whips when they changed directions at breakneck speed just before colliding, and they swirled to create a tornado which sucked the expanding nova into it. Before long they now had the colorful ring circling within a vortex of howling, shimmering, iridescent wind. The Wonderbolts then dispersed from the funnel and made their way to the stage while Soarin remained in the sky. He loaded the C.O.L.T with the last rocket he had and dropped the bag, letting the rainbow tornado suck it up. Soarin took aim and fired the final rocket into the funnel, the resulting explosion engulfing the winged stallion before he could retreat. Simultaneous gasps and lamentations of concern and sheer horror erupted from the audience. The Wonderbolts remained calm while they hovered above the stage, some of them shaking their heads and laughing at the crowd's reaction. The rippling and bubbling fissure of fire continued to expand in the sky, and all thought that their rocket launcher-wielding hero had been consumed by the hungry firestorm until - like an action hero outrunning the wall of fire chasing him down a long and narrow corridor - Soarin emerged from the flames, his wings spread wide, his teeth gleaming between the stretched corners of his mouth in a cocky smile. Wild cheers and screams echoed throughout the town from ponies near the stage, on the stage, and even those who were now observing from their opened windows. Some even climbed to the roof tops of their homes, snacks and beverages in hoof, to observe the spectacle.

Soarin joined his team and gazed at the sky with them to observe the climax of their stunt. It wasn't long before the ovations and applause would begin to dwindle to silence as the entirety of the Ponyville's populace were now bereft of breath at what the Wonderbolt's had created.

The tornado of rainbows had irrupted and blanketed the sky as far as the eye can see in an aurora of constantly changing colors. Green fated to blue, blue fated to purple, purple fated to orange. The spirals and waves and other patterns danced about the sky slowly and fluidly like clusters of bio-luminescent sea life drifting carelessly with the ocean's current. Its beauty and sheer volume came as a surprise to even the Wonderbolts, who had not yet had a chance to perform this particular stunt as it was being saved for the grand finale of their Los Pegasus air show, the Superbowl of all air shows.

Soarin couldn't help but find it a little funny that this little backwater town would be the first to observe the Wonderbolts' most fantastic aerial stunt ever conceived, but this trick was merely a gift from Spitfire. Soarin was yet to present his. He touched down on the stage and approached the microphone. Before he spoke, he took a few minutes to let the others around him enjoy the romantic atmosphere the aurora created: Some gazed dumbly and dreamily. A few muttered and babbled to each other in amazement. Lovers intimately nuzzled and held one another while gazing at the array of airborne colors. A sense of longing welled up within him as he watched the happy couples. Not since his fling with a filly during his academy years had he ever been with anyone who wasn't attracted to him for his money or the social prestige of being on the arm of a Wonderbolt. His reputation in his team was always that of a bit of a skirt chaser, but he never saw it that way. He had always thought of himself as a hopeless romantic. However, despite his melancholy, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. His loneliness was his cross to bear, and his alone. His years of being miserable had a positive side to it: he was good at forcing himself to be happy. He breathed, smiled, and dropped the launcher on the stage, startling everyone around him and stealing their attention away from the sky. He cleared his throat into the microphone before he began. "Now, now, Ponyville, remember, there's kids here, too. Why don't you save the real fireworks for when you're in private, eh? You know who you are!" Soarin pointed an accusing yet playful hoof out at the crowd. The adults in the crowd chuckled. "At least I can still be funny," Soarin muttered to himself away from the mic before he continued. "The Wonderbolts, fillies and gentlecolts. If that wasn't an entrance, I don't know what is!"

Everyone clopped their hooves on the ground in applause. The Wonderbolts took a bow with smiles on their faces. Soarin watched Spitfire as she smiled that synthetic smile hers. It never ceased to amaze him how proficient she was with disingenuous displays of humility. He knew that behind that hood and those goggles was a seething, boiling bundle of rage and scorn for having her spoil the stunt she had planned for performing at the Los Pegasus Coliseum. She was the only one among them who seemed to not be having fun. Even Fleetfoot, with her terse and misanthropic tendencies seemed to be enjoying herself. Soarin didn't want to admit it, but deep down, he was enjoying watching his former captain writhe silently in her anger. He couldn't even bring himself to feel guilty for his vindictiveness. He looked to Rainbow Dash, who was beside herself with joy and looking back at him with an anticipation that telegraphed that she was on the edge to know what was going to happen next. Spitfire had given her gift, and now it was time for him to give his.

The applause dimmed until everyone fell completely silent, and they waited for the former Wonderbolt to speak again. He looked back into the eyes of the five mares who watched him closely, their expectant eyes fixed on him as if they were even more excited for Rainbow Dash that even she was for herself.

This was the second time Soarin was truly touched by the connection he felt between Rainbow Dash and her friends. The first time was when he was hidden behind the curtain next to her in the hospital, eaves dropping on the conversation they were having as he had nothing better to do. Without saying anything, Soarin looked to Spitfire and nodded. The fiery captain landed with her team on the platform and they all unzipped their hoods and removed their goggles.

Rainbow Dash looked them over with an expression of utter confusion, not knowing what to make of the situation. Spitfire unzipped her flight suit and retrieved a round container of some sort. It zipped open and inside of it was a piece of rolled parchment that she gave to Soarin for him to read aloud for everyone to hear. Soarin turned with a smirk toward Rainbow Dash as he unrolled the paper and said, "Front and center, noobie."

Rainbow Dash tilted her head in puzzlement. "What did you call me?" Her head whipped around to the Wonderbolts while they chuckled at her confused reaction.

"Wave Chill," Soarin said, "if you'd be so kind?"

Wave Chill grinned impishly when he suddenly snatched Rainbow Dash from behind, making her yelp in surprise. He carried her and landed her on her hooves front and center next to Soarin. Never had the Rainbow-maned mare looked so baffled and bewildered than she did at that moment, her eyebrows low and her forehead wrinkled as she continued to puzzle over her situation. "Soarin, what's going on?" she asked.

"I already told you, I'm here to grant you your fondest dream," Soarin responded with a wink before holding up the piece of parchment our for the audience to see. Ponies in the crowd leaned forward and squinted in an attempt to read the tiny print, but the only legible words were the bold ones at the top that read 'Conditions of initiation.' He turned the parchment over, took one last look at Rainbow Dash, then read it out loud for all to hear.

"Upon the signing of this document, I, Rainbow Dash, acknowledge that I am a reserve for the Cloudsdale Wonderbolts. Upon my day of completion of the academy, I will fill the now empty seat in the team and bear my title as an official Wonderbolt with pride and honor. I understand that this seat shall remain open exclusively for me upon my completion of the academy and all of its courses. However, if I should fail to complete said courses, therefore failing to graduate on the applicants expected date of completion on the thirteenth sunrise of the month of hearthfire, this contract becomes null and void, and I, Rainbow Dash, shall relinquish my reserved slot on the team." Soarin set the contract flat on the ground for Rainbow Dash to stamp her hoof over the X, cementing her position in the team she had always pinned to be a part of, but she remained silent, as did the crowd in front of the stage. Even her friends seemed to be shocked beyond words.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted?" Soarin asked her.

Rainbow Dash could only nod and her bottom lip began to quiver. "You're making me a Wonderbolt?" She whispered breathlessly.

"No, Dash. It's still up to you to make yourself a Wonderbolt, I have merely pulled a few strings to make you a reserve. If I could make you a Wonderbolt right now, I would, but you still have to graduate from the academy. But know that your spot is guaranteed so long as you finish your courses. Oh, and by signing this document—" Soarin turned the contract over to reveal another body of print on the other side. "Just for a little icing on the cake, this contract is also a property deed. By giving this document your hoof stamp, you also inherit my estate. It will just be empty space since I've moved out, so I figured why not just move you into it right now. Of course, if you prefer to live here in Ponyville, you could always use it as a dorm for you and some friends to make the commute to the academy easier during the season."

Spitfire twisted around in the air and gave Soarin a stare so fierce that he could practically feel her gaze burning holes into him. "Soarin, the estates are not sorority houses! I never approved of this decision, nor did you ever mention it to me!"

"No, you didn't," Soarin chuckled and held the document up for spitfire to see. "But the board did, and I even got it stamped and notarized."

"How in the hoof did you find a notary over the course of one day?"

"I'm not going to say his name, but a certain little dragon in this very town just happens to be a licensed and full-fledged notary of the public. As a matter of fact, he helped me write out the deed and this contract for a diminutive little fee of a few gemstones. Both sides of the contract and deed are stamped with the official seal and watermark of the Canterlot court, and this little dragon whom I speak of is a direct assistant to a princess, therefor his legal authority is an extension of Celestia herself. An attempt to subvert the authority of the powers that be which have partaken in the legalization of this contract, one could argue, could be seen as an act of treason."

"Check mate!" Wave chill blurted, earning him a scathing glare from his captain.

"And there is only one more thing to do," Soarin announced before placing the contract on the ground before Rainbow Dash. "The only thing keeping this contract from becoming legally binding is your hoof print."

"I'm afraid I'm going to wake up any minute," Rainbow Dash said softly, almost whimpering. It was clear that she was overcome with emotion; it isn't every day that one's dream is suddenly presented to them in the form of gold-trimmed parchment.

Rainbow Dash's friends suddenly rushed to her side and crowded around her, nearly knocking Soarin off the stage in the process.

"Darling," Rarity said, "this is your dream coming true!"

"Yeah, doesn't that make you happy?" Pinkie Pie asked.

Applejack placed a comforting hoof on her friends shoulder."Ain't nopony gonna make you sign this thing if you don't want to, sugarcube."

"It's a decision I've been working toward my entire life." Rainbow Dash responded before wiping a tear from her eye. "It's just happening so fast." She took the parchment in her hooves and scanned her eyes across the texts several times. Her friends watched in silence. The crowd and even the Wonderbolts looked on and anticipated her answer. "This part, right here." She pointed with the edge of her hoof to a line of text. "If I should fail to complete said courses, therefore failing to graduate on the applicants expected date of completion on the thirteenth sunrise of the month of hearthfire, this contract becomes null and void."

"A deadline had to be set," Soarin offered. "There's an empty slot in the team that needs to be filled as soon as possible. You'll be inheriting my schedule when you graduate, and last time I checked, there was a whole year of special appearances and events you'll be attending. You'll need to be a full time student to make the date, but I'm sure you're more than capable of handling that."

Rainbow Dash swallowed nervously. "A-a whole year, huh?"

Soarin could see the hesitation in Rainbow Dash's face. "Dashie," he said softly, "isn't this everything you've ever wanted? This contract will secure your future."

"Travel to exotic locations." Wave Chill put in.

"Baskings in the applause and admiration of thousands of screaming fans." Blaze added.

"A solid seven figures a year?" Rapid fire incentivized. "You'll be making a lot more than you ever did at that minimum wage weather patrol job of yours."

Soarin was beginning to puzzle over why Rainbow Dash was being so hesitant. She continued to stare silently at the contract while the team continued to poor the incentives on her until finally, with a sorrowful sigh, she rolled the contract back up, walked over to Soarin, and held it out for him to take back. "I'm very sorry, but I can't accept these terms."

The dumbfounded stallion could only gaze at her in bewilderment, flummoxed beyond words. The crowd, the Wonderbolts, and even her friends dropped their jaws in surprise.

"I'm sorry." Rainbow Dash repeated remorsefully. "You must have gone through so much trouble to put all of this together, and I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, but I'm not ready to make a commitment like this just yet."

Soarin wasn't sure how to feel about her decision. He had put a lot of effort and planning into this contract in order Spitfire-proof it. He was proud of the results of all his careful planning, but he should have known his plan would backfire on him in some way: Rainbow Dash wouldn't accept his gift, Spitfire would have the last laugh - as she always did, and Soarin would continue to feel indebted to Rainbow Dash. "Are you sure about this?" He asked her, trying his hardest not to look dejected.

With a sincere and grateful smile Rainbow Dash again held the contract out for Soarin to take. "Yes. My friends need me and I need them, and they'll always come first. Don't get me wrong, I do plan on becoming a Wonderbolt eventually, but it's going to be on my own terms."

"I see..." Soarin felt a plethora of mixed emotions wash over him: Sadness that she wouldn't accept his contract. Defeated that things would continue to go Spitfire's way. Envy that Rainbow Dash could have friends that she would choose over her very heart's desire, but strangely enough, he couldn't help but be happy about it - if not for himself, then at least for her. He smiled and took the parchment without giving it another thought and tore it in half, then he folded the halves and tore those halves into quarters. Before long he had two hoofs full of legally notarized confetti that he threw into the air for the wind to take. "There's no point in dwelling on it, then." Soarin announced as he poised himself with as much dignity as he could muster, though he could feel Spitfire's triumphantly smug smile burrowing into him without even having to look at it.

Rainbow Dash rubbed her leg and gave him an apologetic look. "So, you're not mad?"

"I told you, there's no point in dwelling on it. You still have your birthday party to enjoy, and if nothing else, you at least have that to gaze at for the next few hours." Soarin pointed to the aurora in the sky. "And that one is all thanks to Spitfire, who so graciously planned out our entrance just for you on your special day. Isn't that right, Spitise?"

Spitfire's eye twitched as she forced the corners of her mouth up in a smile. "Sure. Happy birthday, Rainbow Dash," she uttered through her clinched teeth before casting a detesting eye to Soarin. "I guess since you won't be needing us anymore, we're just going to head back to Cloudsdale. I still need to find a replacement for you since my time was just wasted here. Don't bother writing."

"You guys don't have to leave just yet, do you?" Rainbow Dash asked, extending a pleading hoof. "You guys can still hang out for a while if you want. The party's just getting started."

Soarin could practically feel Spitfire impatiently rolling her eyes behind her goggles before she said, "Look, Rainbow Dash, Soarin has caused a lot of trouble for me when he abandoned the team the other day, so I have a lot of work to do to make up for his—"

"Oh, my Celestia!" High Winds exclaimed, interrupting her captain's train of thought. "I smell churros!" She turned her head to Pinkie Pie. "You have churros here?"

Pinkie Pie nodded. "Yeah, I just put some in the oven before I got on stage. They should be done any second now. Would you like some?"

"I haven't had a churro since I was a filly!"

"And you won't be having any tonight, either," Spitfire dictated with a scolding tone. "As a Wonderbolt, you're expected to stick to your diet and training regimen."

"They have a fully stocked bar." Lightening streak grinned as he eyed the tiki bar in the distance. "From the looks of the stamps on those bottles, they have brands of aged bourbon here that I've never seen before. They may even have some of that griffon nation rum I've been looking for."

"No, you old booze hound!" Spitfire scolded yet again. "Don't you have a cover shoot for a sports magazine tomorrow morning? You won't be in any shape for it if you get sloshed tonight."

Wave Chill touched down on the stage and put an arm over Soarin's shoulder. "This town is incredible," he commented in a low voice. "All these girls, mate! There must be, like, fifty mares to every stallion at this party! And there isn't really a bad lookin' one among em, either..."

"Yeah, Ponyville's funny like that." Soarin retorted before noticing Fleetfoot on his other side. "I suppose you're going to agree with Spitfire like you always do and tell everyone to go home."

Spitfire smiled expectantly with her hooves on her flanks. "Well, Fleetfoot? I'm sure at least you understand the importance adhering to a strict schedule, don't you? Help me convince these idiots that we can't afford to waste our time here."

"Actually," Fleetfoot said, pointing with a hoof out past the crowd, "I don't suppose you know that guy over there, do you, Soarin?"

Soarin traced the edge of her hoof all the way out to the muscular, golden, stetson-clad stallion leaning against the tiki bar with a drink in hoof. "Braeburn? Yeah, I know him. I actually work with him. Why?"

"I do declare," Fleetfoot purred while mimicking the accent of a sultry southern belle as she playfully fanned herself with her hoof. "That southern gentlecolts is giving me the vapors. Don't suppose you could introduce us?"

"Fleetfoot!" The fiery captain exclaimed before turning a hopeful eye to Blaze and Rapidfire. "Let me guess, you're both staying as well."

"This could be a chance to settle a little dispute between me and Rainbow Dash," said Blaze, grinning competitively down at the rainbow-maned mare on the stage. "She toots a mighty big horn about how she's the fastest flyer in all of Equestria. This could give me an opportunity to put her in her place."

"I'm with High Winds on those churros." Rapidfire put in. "Haven't had any real food since I joined this team six years ago. I'll fly a few extra laps at PT tomorrow to burn off the extra calories."

Spitfire sighed irritably while casting a glare over Soarin. "Fine, you win. You children can have your fun. The only adult on this team has many crucial matters to attend to." The captain spun around in the air toward Cloudsdale and turned her head slightly to offer Soarin one final farewell. "Oh, and Soarin..." Her muzzle wrinkled and her teeth gleamed in a harsh sneer, her tone laced with as much malice and venom she could muster. "I really do hope that you're less of a failure in whatever occupation you've decided to take up. I feel sorry for the next poor sap who wastes their time and effort with you. Know that when you broke your oath with us, you've brought disgrace to all of Cloudsdale. I would even go as far to say that you've disgraced your family... If you had one!" And without even giving Soarin the time to respond to her statement, she departed for Cloudsdale.

Soarin didn't show it, but he was caught off guard by how affrontive her remark was. Spitfire was normally calm and composed, and often so snide and sarcastic with her insults and accusations that she could always vindicate herself of being a bitch in the presence of anybody who didn't know how two-faced she actually was; her words, however, succeeded in what they were meant to do: Cut deep, and last as long as they could be remembered.

"Whoa!" Rainbow Dash said, rushing to Soarin's side. "What was that about? I've never seen that side of her before..."

Soarin hung his head and glanced at her from the side of his face. "When the day finally comes when you become a Wonderbolt - that side of her will be something you will be all too accustomed to, I guarantee it." He could feel Rainbow Dash's sympathetic hoof resting on his back, but he quickly composed himself, turned around, and smiled. "Hey, don't make this night about me, Dashie! It's your birthday!" He turned to the crowd and extended his hoof to his former team. "We're the Wonderbolts, and we are here to party with you tonight, Ponyville!" The recovery from the awkward silence was a slow and steady one, but after a moment or two of a few slow and shallow clops on the ground, everyone was back to cheering and applauding. Soarin felt relief coursing through him once the spirits of the party-goers had brightened; a large group witnessing Spitfire having a go at him was a humiliating and unpleasant experience.

* * *

><p>The party went on through the night, and Soarin had made a point to spend time with each member of his former team, knowing it would most likely be the last time he would have the opportunity of seeing them outside of a stadium. He knocked back shots of exotic and expensive liquor with Firestreak - the oldest Wonderbolt and self-appointed liquor connoisseur of the team. He played the announcer for Rainbow Dash and Blaze's race. Rainbow had won the first race, and Blaze won the next two in a row, but the results were always so close that it almost didn't matter. He was dragged into a cupcake eating contest between High Winds, Rapidfire, and Pinkie Pie. Much to his dismay, he was the first one to drop from the contest. Pinkie, with her earth pony appetite, defended her title as the grand champion. She celebrated by, of course, eating even more cupcakes. He chatted up the majority of the female populace of the town with Wave Chill. Soarin really didn't have much to say, so he mostly let Wave Chill do the talking. Last anyone saw of him that night, he was leaving the party with an aqua marine-colored unicorn with a harp on her flank. If Soarin wasn't absolutely sure Wave Chill was in it for a one night stand, he would have thought they'd make a cute couple.<p>

Even as Soarin tried with all his might to have fun with his former teammates, Spitfire's remark about Cloudsdale and his family would somehow come creeping into the back of his mind. It was beginning to trouble him. He couldn't help but think her words had a hidden meaning to them. A meaning that only he would understand. His biological family consisted of only a mother whom he hadn't spoken to since his father's funeral, but Soarin doubted that Spitfire was referring to her. She was most likely talking about the team. The Wonderbolts. Her words were a reminder that he was no longer a part of them, that they were the closest thing to family he had ever had, and he threw that all away. And to make matters worse, it was likely that all of Cloudsdale had heard the news by now that they didn't make it into the Equestria games. It was also likely that the news was circulating through the paper that it was all Soarin's fault. Those would be Spitfire's words, and she always seems to be the one the press turns to for information concerning their team. He made a mental note to himself that it would be in his best interest to never show his face in Cloudsdale again. He could see it now: outraged fans chasing him through the clouds with pitchforks and torches, eager to tear him limb-from-limb for tarnishing their home team's image and single-hoofedly denying Cloudsdale's chance at glory. It sounded silly, but Wonderbolt's fans were crazy, especially in a group.

The more Soarin decrypted the subliminal meaning behind Spitfire's last words to him, the emptier inside he felt. The Wonderbolts were indeed like a family to him, and they have been for almost a decade. A few of them he had been friends with since his academy days. The realization of those bonds suddenly being severed, on top of the notion that he would be ostracized from the town that had been his home his whole life came crashing down on him. The fact that he had completely misread Rainbow Dash's priorities and intrusively attempted to thrust the title of Wonderbolt upon her only served to compound his misery. He continued to pretend he was happy, but he knew that the time he spent with with his team would be his last, and soon, the act of forcing that smile on his face for their sake became an insurmountable task. He decided to leave the party without telling anyone. He doubted the world would just instantly stop spinning without him, or that anyone would even miss him among all the dancing, drinking, and merrymaking. He only had one place he could go, and it wasn't the academy or anywhere in Cloudsdale.

* * *

><p>With speed and deftness of hoof that only a former Wonderbolt could possess, Soarin had swiped a bottle of cheap wine from the bar at the party while the keep was distracted, and then he had stolen the bottle of apple whisky from the kitchen cabinet in the Apple family home. "I'll just pay Braeburn back tomorrow," he told himself. He doubted Braeburn would miss it tonight. He was off doing Celestia knows what with Fleetfoot. Bringing the wine and the whisky back to his barn, he had mixed the two spirits in a bucket he had rinsed, and he created a lethal concoction of fortified wine. It didn't taste very good, but it would do the trick. He could already feel his head swimming and his cares melting away with only half of the first glass. The orange flame in his lamp he had set on the table, which was his only source of light, became blurry and distorted through his inebriated eyes. Drinking in order to numb his pain was a habit he had always feared he was falling into, but that didn't matter to him now. He just wanted the pain to vanish, and if he had to drink until he passed out, only to wake up to do it all over again, that's what he would do. He was completely aware of how pathetic he was being - that's why he refused to show his face to anyone. He didn't want pity. He just wanted to be blind, stinking, pissfaced drunk. He wanted that poisonous elixir to run through his veins and intoxicate his mind until that vice grip on his heart loosened.<p>

The idea of becoming an isolated hermit was becoming tempting for him. He couldn't even remember why he decided to keep this stupid job in the first place. He had enough money to retire. He could have a cabin built for him in the middle of the ever free forest, where no one would come bother him. Or a cottage in the mountains of the frozen north near the Chrystal empire, with a fully stocked wine cellar - stocked with more barrels of Wine, Mead, and Beer than he could possibly consume in a lifetime so that he could spend the rest of his meaningless life in a drunken stupor. The more he drank, the more a the prospect became appealing to him. He finished his first glass, and with glazed eyes he reached out to his bucket to poor another when he was startled by a rapping at his door. He froze. Could it have been Braeburn wanting to know where his whisky had gone? He dropped his glass on the table, grabbed his lamp, then clumsily and drunkenly stumbled his way to the door as he conscientiously wiped the moisture from his eyes - telling himself that if the subject was brought up, he'd simply blame it on allergies.

The impatient knocking grew louder. "I'm coming!" Soarin shouted. He quickened his pace and as soon as he got to the door, he pulled the bolt of the wooden track down, slid the panel out from the brackets and pushed the door open to reveal not Braeburn, but Applejack standing in the glow of his lantern. She was the last one Soarin wanted to talk to right now. It wasn't that he didn't wish for her to be in his company, he merely didn't want for her to see the pitiful state he was in. She was most likely here to yell at him about not sticking to the original plan she had set for him. She was probably going to tell him off for offering Rainbow Dash a gift that came from so far out of left field that she had no other choice but to decline it.

If he had just given Rainbow Dash the damn flight suit, he wouldn't have made an ass out of himself when he put on that big entrance for nothing. Soarin winced as he prepared himself for the worst.

Applejack entered the barn. Soarin backed away from her nervously.

"Ah just don't know what to with you..." she said with an eyebrow raised in irritation. "The crazy entrance? That fancy-schmancy bazooka thing ya pulled out at the party? That crazy explosion that nearly deep fried you? And then - to top it all off - you go and try to draft Rainbow Dash into the Wonderbolts? You are some kinda vampire fruit bat shit-crazy... You know that?"

_Here it comes,_ Soarin thought, his muscles bracing as if he were preparing himself for a devastating collision.

"You promised me a dance. Then you just ghost away from the party like it ain't no thang? We were lookin' all over for you. You broke mah heart, sugarcube."

"I know! You don't have to tell me! I'm nothing but a piece of— wait, what?" Soarin's eyes widened incredulously at the blonde mare slowly advancing toward him. Her face betrayed absolutely nothing as to what her intentions were.

Applejack smiled what Soarin could swear was the most seductive smile he had ever seen on a mare. She leaned back and sat on her haunches. She turned her head ever so slightly and blushed, which only intensified that bright smile of hers.

"Sugarcube," she purred. "You. Promised. Me. A. Dance."


	4. Amnesia Complex

Soarin let out an anguished groan as a rooster outside roused him from his alcohol-induced coma, letting fly with a strident, torturous cry that ricocheted around in his skull like a chunk of jagged shrapnel. He rolled to his belly and writhed miserably in his nauseated state, every pulse of blood rushing through his head ringing painfully like a series of rhythmic hammerblows on a blacksmith's anvil.

Slowly he pushed himself up with his front legs and let his blanket slide down his back. He strained his vision as hard as he could, but nothing save for a few vague shapes from nearby inanimate objects could be identified within the twilight. He curiously squinted upward through the hole in his roof, which, strangely enough, was directly above him. Something about its placement didn't seem right. Why was that? His hangover seemed to have muddled his mental acuity.

His eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness, and images that were obscure were now able to be seen with a little more clarity. He turned his head and was able to identify the ledge of his loft where his bed was. That was when he realized he had been sleeping in the middle of the floor. He must have passed out. He glanced down at his blanket. His brow wrinkled with a curious frown when he shifted his gaze to his pillow._Why is my bedding down here?_

Soarin grappled with the riddle, but his thoughts alluded him as the rooster outside launched another assault on his senses; that Celestia damned bird's harsh bellow after a night of inebriation carried with it the sensation of a gelid dagger twisting in his skull. He guarded his ears until he was sure the crowing had ceased, then he shakily trudged for the door, eager to fill his lungs with the cool morning air.

Soarin had only taken a few steps when he suddenly felt his hoof kick something soft. Whatever it was, it blended in well with the dark, and it was unnoticeable until his hoof sent it in motion. The round object slid a short distance before coming to an abrupt stop. He picked it up and inspected it. _A hat?_ Soarin couldn't see it clearly, but he could feel it. It was soft and warn with age, and he could feel a nick at the edge of the brim. It was familiar somehow. He scanned his barn and noticed the old scarecrow in the corner. The dark may have obscured its features, but the shape of its hatless head was definable enough. "Is this yours?" Soarin asked rhetorically before examining the hat again. _How did this get on the floor?_ He meditated on the subject for only a moment before disregarding the mystery as trivial. With a flick of his hoof, he hurled the hat by its brim like a frisbee and sent it spinning through the air toward the scarecrow's head. It missed and landed soundlessly somewhere in the dark. Soarin shrugged insouciantly and made his way to the door.

* * *

><p>The pulsing rhythm of Soarin's headache lessened after he had spent a few minutes stretching and drawing in the fresh rural air. It was just cool enough for him to see his breath pluming like hot steam. He popped the stiff joints in his neck and back while savoring the brief deep indigo of the morning sky before it would turn to azure with the rising of Celestia's sun. He turned his attention to the Apple family house across the grassy pasture. A window on the second floor was lit in the darkness of the early morning with a radiant golden light. A silhouette passed by it, but Soarin's vision was still too blurry for him to determine who it was. He began to wonder to himself if that was Applejack's bedroom.<p>

"Applejack..." His musings jarred his memory. Applejack visited him last night... While he was shitfaced drunk.

He tried to remember more, but all he could conjure in his mental imagery were snippets here and there. A collection of short first person memories lasting only for brief seconds at a time flashed through his head like a damaged roll of film running through an old projector: He could recall her smiling as she approached him. His memory went hazy after that. Soarin dreaded the thought of being so drunk that he passed out in front of her. He could only pray to Celestia that he didn't make a complete ass out of himself. Being the pessimist that he was, he imagined over a dozen likely and humiliating scenarios that could have occurred.

His thoughts were again brought to a grinding halt when the rooster let loose another piercing scream. Soarin covered his ears and cast a bloodshot glare upon his feathery tormentor that sat perched on a nearby fence. "I'm awake!" He snapped. "You can shut up now!"

The rooster clucked and cocked its head uncomprehendingly. It then flapped its wings and sucked in air as if it were preparing to bellow another savage cry. Soarin preemptively picked up a nearby rock with his mouth and flung it in the air. "Piss off!" He yelled as he loosed the rock in the bird's direction with a kick. The projectile missed its mark by mere inches, but the bird, fearing the possibility of a second and more accurate shot, relented and scurried away.

Soarin grumbled exasperatedly as he turned and shuffled to the water spigot behind his barn. After sating his thirst, washing his face, and styling back his tousled mane he trotted across the field toward the Apple family home for breakfast, as would be the morning ritual there.

He continued to wrestle with his memory as he strode across the pasture, but still he had nothing. All he could remember was that she was there, and he was blind stinking drunk in front of her. This troubled him. What if he had made a fool of himself in front of her? Even worse still, what if he did something to offend her?

Unpleasant images of Applejack's disgusted and disapproving eyes boring into him from across the breakfast table popped up in his thoughts when he approached the door, making him feel hesitant to open it. He wished she hadn't seen him in the state he was in last night. Why did she come to see him in the first place? Something about a dance? He was too drunk to dance. He hoped against hope that he didn't try to dance with her while he was drunk.

_Maybe I could just go without breakfast today and get straight to work,_ he thought to himself. This would be his first breakfast with the Apples, and he would be making a bad first impression if he showed up hungover - especially on a work day. Not to mention that the prospect of facing Applejack with his blank memory daunted him. She'd probably assume he was a lush now, which wasn't too far from the truth. But, on the other hoof, he could smell what ever it was Granny Smith was cooking. He wasn't able to identify the tantalizing aroma, but it smelled delicious. He paused to take in a deep whiff of the scent, letting the intoxicating fragrance of herbs and spices grace his sinuses. The delectably mouthwatering aroma shoved his nausea aside and stimulated his appetite. His stomach grumbled in protest at the very notion of skipping a meal. He also knew that he would need his strength. Apple bucking was a physically demanding job that he could barely do on a full stomach. He shuttered to think of how lackluster his performance would be if he tried to do it while half-starved.

But wasn't he considering leaving the farm just last night? _It's not like anypony would miss me._

Soarin sneered at the idea once he had given it a few seconds of sobered thought. This job felt like his last chance at redemption. He was a failure as a Wonderbolt, he didn't want to be a failure as a farmer, too. Even if the job wasn't particularly to his liking, he needed to prove to himself that he could at least do **something** right. This thought jarred an unwelcome memory of the night before, and Spitfire's words suddenly echoed in his mind.

_I really do hope that you're less of a failure in whatever occupation you've decided to take up. I feel sorry for the next poor sap who wastes their time and effort with you._

Soarin narrowed his eyes in irritation as he recalled his former captain's scathing remark to him. Out of all the things from last night that he was not able to remember, why couldn't those words be one of them? The whole town saw him just lower his head and take it as if he were her submissive little whipping boy. Why couldn't he at least come back at her with a clever quip or snarky remark in front of all those ponies who witnessed him being chastised? "Oh yeah," Soarin remembered with a self-loathing scowl, "because I'm pathetic."

"Landsakes, boy!" An aged southern drawl suddenly startled the melancholy stallion. "That glare of yours could peel the paint off the walls!"

Soarin staggered backwards when he noticed the matriarch of the Apple family glaring at him from the doorway. "Oh, grandma, I didn't notice you standing there!"

"You didn't notice me standin' right in front of you?" The old matron squinted a suspicious eye at him. "Your vision must be worse than mine! And yer manners need some work, too. 'oh, grandma, I didn't see you.' Just what kinda greeting is that? And what's with this grandma stuff? It's Granny Smith to you, young fella!"

"I-I didn't mean to offend you!" Soarin stammered, caught off guard by the heat in the aging mare's tone. "Good morning, Granny Smith! You, uh, you're looking positively—"

"Positively..?"

"Beautiful!" Soarin blurted. "Yeah, that's it! And young, too! For a moment, I thought Applejack may have had another sister living here!"

"Do Ah look like an ear of corn, boy? Quit trying to butter me up!"

Soarin clapped his mouth shut. He began to fabricate additional conclusions to last night's scenario. Was it possible that he did in fact do something to offend Applejack last night, and she reported his vile behavior to her grandmother? Why else would Granny Smith be acting so hostile toward him without provocation?

The elder continued to glower at him as she hobbled out from the doorway, then she began to circle around him. Soarin continued to stand still and look forward, as if he were a perturbed but compliant soldier standing at attention to await a harsh reprimand from his superior. Was she going to fire him? Maybe she would have Big Mac and Braeburn pummel him; or perhaps she will fire him, **then** have Big Mac and Braeburn pummel him. He didn't want to leave the farm - not after pledging to himself that he could be of some worth to someone for a change.

"Hmm... Nice and firm... Just how ah like em," the aging mare chuckled lecherously.

"I beg your pardo—" Soarin's articulations escaped him and his eyes widened when he felt the sting of Granny Smith's hoof slapping him hard on the ass, the sound echoing like the harsh crack of a whip. If his posture wasn't completely straight, it was now.

Laughing, Granny Smith said, "What ya standin' around fer? Get on inside and get ya some grub, youngin!"

"Y-yes, ma'am!" Soarin hastily retreated in to the house, fearing that hesitation may consequently result in another rap on his rump. He shoved open the creaking saloon doors that lead into the kitchen and dining area, and he now found himself standing before the Apple family.

The clan congregated around the large, round wooden table, breaking fast on biscuits smothered and steaming in piping hot gravy. Ice cubes danced inside condensation-saturated mason jars filled with a golden amber fluid, and a metallic tray upon which sat rows of freshly baked buttermilk biscuits was set at the center of the table beside a cast iron pot. Braeburn sat with his back facing Soarin. Big Mac was seated next to him. They ate and laughed and conversed with each other as if they were long time friends, while Apple Bloom had her nose in a book. There was a seriousness and determination burning in her eyes as she scanned the text, every once in a while forking a piece of biscuit into her mouth without feeling bothered to turn away from the tome set in front of her. Soarin could catch little snippets of her mumbling something aloud. It sounded as if she was reciting the ingredients for some sort of macabre witches brew.

"Hair from a ewe, talon from a hen, blood from a changeling, feather from a griffon.

Skin from a snake, eye from a crow, scale of a dragon, will-o'-wisp's glow."

As peculiar as the little filly's behavior was, Applejack was the one who managed to hold Soarin's attention. She sat at the farthest end of the table from where he stood. The deceptively petite mare voraciously and relentlessly tore at the mountain of gravy-smothered morsels on her plate with gusto, only stopping after every other bite to wash it down with the iced liquid in her nearby jar, or wiping her face with her leg - seemingly forsaking the necessity of the napkin that was right in front of her. The moment after licking her plate clean, she returned to the iron sheet at the center of the table for a second helping, scattering her biscuits on her plate into shreds, smothering them with gravy from the iron pot, and continuing her ravenous onslaught.

"Mornin', green horn!" Braeburn's sudden boisterous greeting jolted a twinge of pain through Soarin's skull, which served to remind him that he was hungover.

"Yes, it is," Soarin glared. .

Applejack's head snapped up from her plate as if she had been startled by his voice, her gravy-spattered cheeks bulging with partially chewed food. Her face bore a deer in the headlights expression as their eyes locked. Bright red lines crept across her face and burned the spaces between her soft white freckles before she wiped her mouth with her unsoiled napkin and downed her mouthful with one hard swallow.

"H-hey," Soarin said, too nervous to think of anything else to offer. He still couldn't be sure if there was going to be trouble between them.

"Well, hey yourself," she replied in a surprisingly sweet tone, her emerald green eyes gleaming in a beckoning smile. "Why don't ya come over here and grace me with yer presence?"

Soarin noticed that next to her place at the table sat an empty plate and glass, presumably set there just for him. "You want me to sit next to you?" He asked, astonished.

Applejack pulled the unoccupied seat next to her out from under the table and playfully patted it with her hoof. "Please?" she pleaded with a cute flutter of her eyelashes. "Ah ain't gonna bite ya." Soarin gawked at her, unsure of what to make of her coy behavior.

"You gonna come keep me company, or are you keeping away like a school colt all afraid of mah filly cooties?"

Her playful jest made Soarin crack a smile, making him feel a little more at ease. "Sorry," he inclined his head shyly. "I guess I thought that you might have been angry with me."

"Angry 'bout what, sugarcube?" Applejack asked with genuine curiosity.

"I was drinking... I might have had a little too much. I was almost expecting to get an ear full from you over it."

"Shoot," Applejack chuckled. "A little too much? That's quite the understatement."

Soarin blanched. _Oh crap, I did do something screwy, didn't I?_

"Long as ya don't make a habit of it, and learn from your mistakes, y'all should be fine." Applejack said with a laid-back smile..

Soarin smiled when he heard her say that. His new boss was not only cute - she was kick back. He joined her for breakfast, and thoroughly enjoyed both the food and the interaction with her. The sweet tea was good, too, though the concept of drinking from a mason jar was still a bit odd to him. Applejack didn't even once let him fill his own glass. The second he emptied it, she would snatch the pitcher from the center of the table and have his jar filled before he could so much as blink. It felt awkward to be serviced in such a way. He declined every time, but she always insisted.

The farmer spoke unendingly and passionately about her heritage, her family, and her work ethic, to which Soarin listened intently. There would be a few times when Applejack would attempt to steer the subject in Soarin's direction, but he'd ask about some picture or rusted archaic tool hanging on the wall, which would always lead the conversation back into a lengthy and detailed story about the object in question, what it was used for, and the family member who had passed it down to them. The exuberant little farm mare was chatty, but Soarin didn't mind. She was full of interesting facts and stories, and Soarin enjoyed listening to her as he ate. He had had four helpings by the time he had reached his capacity.

When Soarin was finished eating he pushed his plate forward with a contented smile. A warm and pleasant glow radiated in his belly as he sagged back in his chair.

"Full?" Applejack asked.

"Yep," Soarin said through a yawn.

"How was everything?"

"Amazing."

"Ah'm real glad ya liked it."

Soarin lulled his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm just going to relax for a minute, if that's okay. Let my breakfast settle before I head out for work"

"Take all the time you need, sugarcube."

Soarin stretched his arms toward the ceiling with another yawn, then relaxed his hooves behind his head. If this was the way he'd get to spend his mornings from now on, with good food and pleasant company, he would have no complaints.

"Sugarcube?" Applejack said after a few quiet moments.

Soarin lazily opened one eye and gave her a sideways glance. "Hmm?"

"Can Ah ask ya somethin'?"

"You can ask me anything." Soarin sat straight up in his chair and placed his hooves on the table to show her she had his undivided attention.

An air of apprehension seemed to loom over the farmer as she looked down and traced the grain in the wooden table with her hoof, as if to distract herself. "About last night," she began.

Soarin stiffened. "Last night?" He said cautiously. He should have known that the subject of last night's occurrences would eventually come up. He tried to fortify his resolve by telling himself that whatever may have happened, she didn't seem to be upset about it, so it must not have been anything bad.

With a sigh, she reached for her tea, taking several deep quaffs until not even the icecubes remained. She exhaled sharply as she set the jar back down, and she narrowed her eyes determinedly. "As Ah told ya last night," she began, "the Ponyville day celebration is going to be in a few days, and, well..." She shifted nervously in her seat before she spoke again. "Well, A-Ah don't suppose—"

"Green horn?" Braeburn suddenly interrupted.

Alarmed by the sudden intrusion, Applejack turned away and rubbed the back of her neck.

Soarin noted her peculiar behavior with bemusement before turning his attention to Braeburn. "What?" He snapped, eager to return to their conversation.

"Ah don't wanna rush ya," Braeburn said, "but you two need to rap your conversation up. Lots'a things we need to go over today, so it would probably be best if you and I got an early start. Ah'm only gonna be here for a few more days, so you'll need to pay attention an' learn as much as ya can, as fast as ya can."

"You're only here for a few more days?" Soarin asked, surprised. "I thought you lived here."

"Ah don't live here," Braeburn went on to explain. "Ah'm only here to train you. AJ and Big Mac are too busy with their harvest to bother with a green horn like you. No offense."

Granny Smith suddenly pushed the saloon doors open and entered the kitchen, a newspaper clenched between her teeth. She took a seat at the table between Braeburn and Big Mac and set the paper down before adding, "We're behind on our harvest this year. Our clientele has been growing, so we needed an extra hoof to keep up with our quota. Ah don't want to sound harsh, but we don't have room on the farm for substandard or mediocre laborers; we're all really gonna have to break our backs this harvesting season."

Soarin nodded and said, "I'll do my best." He looked silently at his jar and watched the ice cubes shift as they slowly disintegrated and intermixed within the sweet beverage. Every word the old mare had just said waned his confidence. Substandard and mediocre was all he was capable of, but he knew he had to try. This job felt like his last chance at redeeming himself for his lifetime of failures. "I'll do my best," he repeated, putting a little more conviction in his voice.

Granny Smith smiled kindly at him. "That's all that we ask of you. As long as you keep that promise, yer just as welcome as family 'round here."

Soarin acknowledged Granny Smith with a wordless nod before looking to Braeburn. "I guess I'm ready when you are."

"Alrighty, then." Braeburn stood up from his seat and rounded the table toward Apple Bloom. "Just let me say goodbye to mah two favorite ladies real quick." He gently adjusted the bow on the filly's head before bending down and kissing her on the cheek. "Have a good day at school, sugarcube'." He said with a doting affection in his voice.

"You do the same," Apple Bloom replied, acknowledging her cousin by reaching up and hugging him around his neck with one arm, still never taking her eyes from her book.

The lofty golden stallion then did the same with Granny Smith.

"Try not to be too hard on the city slicker." She chuckled. "They just seem to be gettin' more and more fragile with every generation."

Soarin frowned, not amused by the old badger's condescension. He turned to Applejack to gauge her reaction on Granny Smith's comment, but she had a look about her as if she were too lost in thought to have been paying attention. It was then that he remembered she was trying to say something to him before Braeburn's interruption.

"What was it you were going to say to me?" He reminded her.

Applejack looked at him, her expression inscrutable. Several times her mouth twitched as if she were about to speak, but she remained silent. Finally she said, "Ah'll ask ya later. Focusing on your work takes priority over such..." she paused, then giggled nervously while waving a dismissive hoof, "Silly little things."

"What could be so 'silly' that you don't even want to tell me?"

"It ain't nothin' to rustle yer jimmies over," Applejack assured with an uneasy smile. "Ah'll, uh, talk to ya about it over dinner tonight. Promise."

"You comin', Mr. Soarin?" Braeburn called out impatiently from the living room.

"I'm coming." Soarin sighed as he reluctantly got up from his seat. He wanted to know what was on Applejack's mind now, not later, but it wasn't like he could interrogate her. He absolutely despised secrets, especially when they concerned him. Crestfallen, he made his way to the kitchen's exit.

* * *

><p>Soarin was not a stranger to hard work. The long and strenuous flight practices and training regimen that had forged him into the lean, corded, aerodynamic stallion he was could attest to this. He was in the best shape of his life, the absolute pinnacle of physical fitness. He had adorned the covers of many sports and male fitness magazines. Everything from his diet, to his training routine, was a carefully calibrated science, orchestrated and devised from the creme of the crop of sports nutritionists, and he only trained with the best personal trainers money could buy. Soarin himself was sired from a line of physically superior specimens. His own grandfather was a Wonderbolt, back in the day when they wore those corny bomber jackets and aviator shades. Yet, despite his pedigree and untapped resources, he couldn't buck a Luna Chucking tree to save his damn life.<p>

The heat was merciless, despite him laboring in the shade of the orchard's canopy. It didn't take Soarin long to realize how spoiled he was, having the privilege of working out in air conditioned private gyms his entire life.

Sweat secreted profusely from every pore in his body, matting his fur to his skin with an unpleasant sticky sensation. He didn't have his trainer there to rub his back when he was sore, or spray him with ice cold water from a bottle and wipe him down when the heat became intense. All he had to use as a towel was a dirty old handkerchief that Braeburn gave him. The crude cloth looked like it was ripped from someponie's garment during a bar fight, which wouldn't surprise him in the least to find out if that was true. It had an acrid stench of musk, old leather, and whisky about it. Soarin refused to wipe down any part of himself with the ringworm-ridden fabric, though he kept it, not wanting to appear ungrateful.

As unpleasantly stifling and muggy the air was, it was tolerable compared to the persistent ache in his back and legs. Every buck was a service to his memory that his physiology was not that of an earth pony's. It was basic kindergarten biology that Pegusi have hollow bones and light muscles, which help them fly. Earth ponies, on the other hoof, have naturally dense frames. Soarin continued to repeat this fact to himself in his mind. The excuse made him feel less inadequate when he felt like buckling into a puddle of his own sweat. His lack of success at the job was not a question of his physical condition, it was an issue of simple biology. It was like a fish trying to fly, or a bird trying to swim. He simply wasn't built for it. But if that was true, what was driving him to perform these tasks that he continued to perpetuate the impossibilities of? This riddle perplexed him as he went on laboriously through the day.

"Try to kick a little higher," Braeburn instructed. "The higher your kick, the harder the apples rattle."

"Got it," Soarin panted. He winced as he bucked as high as he could without sacrificing power.

"Nice!" Braeburn critiqued.

Soarin looked around him. He counted only twelve apples. "Dammit!"

"Damn what? That was a good kick. Yer doin' a lot better than you was on yer first day."

"No, I'm not!" Soarin snapped. The heat and Braeburn's unwarranted praise was beginning to fray his temper. "I still don't get how you're knocking these trees dry with only one kick!" He sneered down at the meager amount of fruit the tree had surrendered to him for his efforts. "I'm lucky if I can do it in ten."

"Been doin' this all mah life," Braeburn offered with a shrug. "Keep at it, you'll get it."

Soarin doubted that very much. He struck the tree again in frustration, this time forsaking any sort of technique. An intense jolt of pain traveled from his legs to his back. He did his best to remain stoic in front of Braeburn, but dark blots were forming around his vision, and he feared in the back of his mind that he may have just pulled or sprained something. There were no new apples that had fallen for all the pain that last kick had caused him. "This is impossible," he muttered hopelessly.

Braeburn trotted to him and said, "You don't look too good. Why don't you take a load off and let me handle the rest of the honey crisp trees."

Soarin was about to protest, but before he could, Braeburn swept passed him and let loose a powerful kick that resonated like thunder. The very tree that Soarin had just nearly broken his leg on, was effortlessly knocked bereft of its fruit in one buck. The whites of Soarin's eyes boiled red as he fought back an oath. The frustration he felt was maddening. He suffered in his dejection silently as he watched Braeburn deposit the fallen apples into a barrel. He attempted to offer his assistance, but the crippling pain from his crude kick persisted. He could do nothing but take Braeburn's advice and lay down.

_Maybe I really am useless..._ Granny Smith's cautionary words to him echoed throughout his mind. Substandard and mediocre, Soarin was beginning to think, were words that were too good to describe his performance. In order to be on the level of mediocrity, he'd have to at least be able to do the job.

"Mr Soarin!" Came a familiar voice in the distance.

Braeburn pivoted around and noticed Apple Bloom sprinting toward them in a mad gallop. "Apple Bloom? Why ain't ya in school, sugarcube?"

Soarin turned his head to acknowledge the filly. He took a deep, calming breath before he spoke, cautious not to project his frustrations onto the child. "What's up, kid?"

Apple Bloom slid on her haunches to a stop. Her eyes were wide with urgency. "Mr Soarin, Ah know this is sudden, and Ah know yer busy an' all, but could ya please get me to school? And quick!"

"You should'a left twenty minutes ago," Braeburn commented.

"Ah know, Ah know, but Ah got all caught up with the alchemy book Twilight let me borrow; Ah lost all track of time."

"Why do you want me to bring you to school?" Soarin asked.

"School starts in fifteen minutes, and Ah just kinda figured - you know - thirty minute walk fer me, five minute flight fer you."

"Now sweet heart," Breburn chided, "getting to school on time is **your** responsibility. It ain't respectful to treat Mr Soarin like yer personal Taxi."

"But Ah'll get Saturday detention if Ah'm tardy one more time!" Apple Bloom wined, her eyes shimmering pleadingly. "Ah promise not to ask again. Just this once. please?" The little filly shifted her pleading eyes to Soarin.

Soarin thought for a moment. The cool sensation of the wind tugging at his mane, the soothing sound of the air rushing past him, the calming endless blue of the sky, it was just what he needed about now. "I really don't mind," he said.

"Really?" Apple Bloom's golden face lit up with the radiance of a lit hearth.

"Sure ya don't mind?" Braeburn asked.

"If you don't mind me leaving the farm for a few minutes," Soarin replied.

"Ah guess it's fine, if ya really don't mind." Braeburn looked admonishingly at Apple Bloom as she happily slung her book bag over her shoulder. "Yer lucky Mr Soarin is such a nice guy, little lady. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Mr Soarin!" said the filly. "Ah don't wanna rush ya, but we need to go, like, nowish. Ah'd sooner chew the abc gum off the bottom of Scootaloo's desk than spend a Saturday afternoon peeling it off."

Soarin crouched down to his belly, and Apple Bloom swung a leg over him and situated herself firmly at the base of his neck. "Does this flight come with free peanuts?" she giggled ammusedly at her own joke.

"No, but in the event of an emergency, I'll be using you a flotation device," Soarin retorted, which scored a disapproving frown from Braeburn. Soarin pretended not to notice as he raised to his hooves, then dug them into the ground. He looked hungrily up at the sky and spread his wings. "Ready, kid?"

He could feel the pressure from Apple Bloom's hind legs on the sides of his neck as she gripped his mane like a pair of reins. "Ready."

"Hurry back," Braeburn waved.

Soarin crouched, then leaped, and he was airborne, effortlessly ripping through the orchard's canopy as he shot strait for the sky's zenith. He drew in a deep breath and looked down to watch the earth flee from him until Sweet Apple Acres was but a green square patch in the distance.

"Mr Soarin!" Apple Bloom cried out. Terrified, She buried her face into her steed's mane.

"What's up?"

"Slow down!" She whimpered.

"Oh, sorry." Soarin lessened his speed to a more casual pace as he ceased his climb. He arched his path until he was moving forward, and he banked toward the direction of the school, which looked like a little red dot from his altitude. "That better?" He could feel Apple Bloom's face still hidden in his mane. "Take a look at the world around you, kid. Few earth ponies get to view it from this perspective. I promise, you'll love it."

After a few unsure moments, he could feel Apple Bloom's grip loosening. The frightened filly managed to open her eyes, and was overcome with a sense of wonderment as she took in her surroundings. "A-Ah can see the whole town from up here!" She exclaimed. "This is amazing!"

"You like that?" Soarin laughed.

"Ah do!" She giggled and freed her grip from his mane, hanging on with only her hind legs. "Ah had no idea this felt so good!" The little one grinned fiercely with her head upturned as she spread her arms out, her crimson red mane flowing behind her like blazing phoenix feathers. A gentle updraft suddenly hit them. Soarin locked his wings out and rode the wind above a cluster of clouds. His wings traced white wisps through the air as they glided lazily through the draft. It was a little boring to move at such a slow speed, but it was relaxing, and at least his passenger seemed to be enjoying it.

"Hey, kid?" Soarin said, seeing this interaction as an opportunity to gather some clues to Applejack's odd behavior. "I don't suppose your sister said anything to you before I came in for breakfast, did she?"

"Matter of fact, she did."

Soarin smiled. "She did? What'd she say?"

"Good mornin'," Apple Bloom replied.

Soarin's eye twitched in irritation. "I meant, anything about me?"

"Ah don't think so. Why?"

"No reason," Soarin sighed in surrender.

"Tell me why!" Apple Bloom insisted. "Is it a secret? Ah like secrets! Promise Ah won't tell no pony. Cross mah heart, hope to fly!"

Soarin thought it over, then decided it didn't matter if the insistent little filly knew about his dilemma. It wasn't like it would change anything. "Something happened between me and your sister last night, but I can't remember a thing. To make things worse, she seems to be harboring a secret from me."

"Why can't you remember anything?" Apple Bloom asked interestedly.

Soarin mulled over his answer for a second, trying to put his words in a way that a child could understand. "You can call it amnesia, I guess."

"Oh!" The filly exclaimed knowingly. "You were drinkin', weren't ya, Mr Soarin?"

Surprise spread across the Pegasus' face. "Aren't you eight? How can you know that?"

"Part of being an alchemist is understanding how various chemicals, such as alcohol, effect the body." The filly pointed out matter of factly. " Ah figured ya was hungover from the way you stumbled into the kitchen with your eyes all bloodshot. You should have told me you was feelin' puny this mornin'. Ah could'a whipped up a medicinal poultice for that. Detoxification potions are easy-peasy."

"Alchemist?" Soarin asked. "What's that?"

"It's a fancy way of saying potion mixer. Twilight Sparkle is a pretty good teacher. She's got access to a lot of really neat books that help further mah research. She even has a small laboratory she lets me use when we have our time together."

"Potions, huh?" Soarin shifted the edges of his wings like rudders on a plane in a diagonal glide, the school fast approaching. "I took a crack at potions when I was a kid, but I never really went anywhere with it. Plus my folks wanted me to be an athlete. They always got a little nervous when I would show interest in what they referred to as 'egghead' pursuits."

"Egghead, shmeghead, alchemy is awesome," Apple Bloom stated, her eyes sparkling with passion. "It's chemistry and magic all bundled into one perfect little package. The limits to what one can do with alchemy are only defined by your knowledge and imagination. Ah could cure any illness, or Ah could turn ya into a frog. Who knows? Maybe a cure for mortality could be discovered one day!"

Soarin chuckled. "You're starting to sound more like a mad scientist."

"Alchemist," Apple Bloom corrected. The two were now traveling just over the school grounds. Apple Bloom swiveled her head around and waved at two other fillies. She pointed at them and said, "Can ya land me over there, Mr Soarin?"

"Sure, kid." Soarin veered toward the fillies, swooped down, and descended slowly until he was on the ground. The moment he landed, the dull ache racing up his legs acted as an instant reminder of how tired and sore they were.

Apple Bloom dismounted and the two fillies she waved to came scrambling to meet her, but a grey earth pony with a braided platinum ponytail cut them off and managed to get to him before they could. She skidded to a stop and looked up at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Could it be? Soarin, coming to visit me at my school? Like in my fanfictions? All twenty of them!"

Soarin staggered backwards, but the filly mirrored his steps. "You," She began, "You... You're really Soarin? Could it be?"

Soarin nodded. "I take it you're a fan?"

"Fan doesn't even describe it!" The little silver filly dropped her book bag and produced her binder. It was covered front to back with pictures of him. Pictures that were taken of him during his shows, pictures of him from magazines and various advertisements. The one picture that was centered in the binder, as if to give it special attention, was of Soarin in his flight suit with his hood unzipped. His mane was ravaged, and his body glistened with a sheen of sweat as if he had just come out of a fierce battle. His muscles were especially prominent through the magic of lighting and airbrushing. It was a fitness ad to Soarin's recollection.

"You want me to sign your binder?" Soarin guessed.

"Yes!" The filly squealed. "And then you can marry me! And we'll have a honeymoon in Prance! Then we'll have three beautiful babies together! Two girls, one boy! And we'll have a summer home off the Gold Coast of Hosstrailia!"

Soarin uneasily backed away from her.

"Sil!" A pink filly suddenly sprung from out of nowhere and subdued the silver one, clasping a hoof over her mouth. "You're scaring him! Play it cool!" The pink filly smiled up at Soarin as the silver one desperately mumbled unintelligible declarations of her affection. "You'll have to forgive my friend. Rabid doesn't even begin to describe her fandom."

"It's okay," Soarin chuckled and turned to Apple Bloom. "I'll see you at home, kid."

"Don't ya wanna meet mah friends?" Apple Bloom asked, standing between an ivory unicorn and orange Pegasus, who were both gawking at him with expressions of intense enthusiasm.

"What does he mean by he'll see you at home?" Said the ivory unicorn, her voice sweet like a minstrel's.

"Oh, Soarin lives with us." Apple Bloom informed. "He's kinda like a handy pony in training."

"Freaking Soarin of the freaking Wonderbolts is living with you?" The Pegasus exclaimed in disbelief, the gruffness in her voice betraying a certain tomboyishness in her demeanor.

A sudden, horrible screech suddenly erupted from the silver earth pony's mouth. The sound could only have been described as iron spears grating harshly against a brick wall. She shoved her pink friend to the ground, liberating herself. "You're working and living with those hicks?! Does this mean you're not a Wonderbolt anymore?!"

"No," Soarin answered curtly, not liking the term the silver one had just used to describe his employers. He then looked back to Apple Bloom. "I should get back to the farm, kid. I'll hangout with you and your friends any time, though."

Another strident squeal escaped the silver filly as she darted in his way before he could take off. "Wait! Please! This is exactly how one of my fics begin! You should come work for my family! We've been needing a new butler since the other one died, I guess. My Daddy can triple whatever meager salary those Apple hicks are paying you."

Soarin glared at her. _Spoiled brat,_ he thought. He knew how to piss off rich fops like this, though. When they tried to act superior, simply act even more superior. He stuck his muzzle up and smiled insufferably. "Kid, I don't need your money, and your daddy would weep if he saw the size of my wallet. You ever hear of the one percent? Well, I'm the zero point one percent."

"Ooohh," the pink one remarked with an approving smile. "Silver Spoon, he's sassy!"

"Isn't he great?" The silver one sighed, her head tilting with a dreamy expression.

Soarin face-hoofed and quickly realized that acting pompous and superior would only warrant admiration from yuppies like these. "Apple Bloom," he said frusteratedly, "I'll see you at home."

"Would you mind if Ah brought mah friends around your barn, so Ah can have them meet you?"

Soarin spread his wings as he crouched into take off. "I don't mind. Party at my place, I guess."

"Wait!" The silver filly pleaded, but Soarin ignored her and took off. The last thing he heard was her screaming after him, "Soarin, wait! This isn't how my fic goes! You still need to ask me to marry you!"

"Kids these days..." Soarin rolled his eyes as he sped into the azure sky, the filly's desperate screams for his attention becoming more and more distant until they were completely inaudible.

On a whim, he decided to clear his head of all thoughts and just fly with no destination in mind. _Just ten minutes, then I'll head back to the farm,_ he promised himself.

He shifted his course and shot into the sky, climbing higher and higher, until the air was thin and frosty with arctic gales, until the earth below was patched like a sprawling quilt that curved far in the distance. He enjoyed the liberating sensation of the endless blue's embrace. He may be living with earth pony's now, but he was still a Pegasus. The sky was every Pegasus' first love, and Soarin was no exception.

He filled his lungs with the icy air, and exhaled a white mist that dissipated into the wind - just like his worries.

* * *

><p>The grass felt lush under Soarin's hoofs as he touched down on the farm. There was just something about flying that relaxed him and chased his worries away. His legs didn't even feel sore anymore. Energized and refreshed, he was ready to find Braeburn and get back to work. He was ready to apologize for being so short-tempered earlier. He was sure that the apple bucking would eventually become easier as he gained experience.<p>

Soarin looked all around, but could not seem to locate Braeburn in the location where they had been working. It was then that he noticed packed in lines where the grass yielded to the weight of the barrel wagon's wheels. He followed them for a few minutes until he could hear Applejack's voice ringing from a clearing in the distance. Soarin smiled as he quickened his stride. Just hearing that saucy little farm girl's sexy drawl was enough to invigorate him.

"Ah don't care Braeburn, he's been annoying me all day. Have you seen the way he looks at me? The way he undresses me with his eyes?"

Soarin stopped dead in his tracks. Who was she talking about? He crept to an apple tree and stealthily peeked out from its side. Braeburn was tapping the cap of a barrel in place with a rubber mallet. Applejack was standing near him. She seemed livid about something.

"Cousin, the only article of clothing you ever wear is your hat." Braeburn pointed out. "You're already undressed."

"Yeah, well..." Applejack faltered. "Well, he probably dresses me with his eyes just so he can undress me with em again! He made me feel so uncomfortable that Ah had to go hide in the chicken coop just to get away from him. The chicken coop! Rarity's been runnin' me ragged, too, as if it was mah fault that preppy little city boy's been drooling over me!"

"Miss Rarity? She's been buggin' you too?"

"You kiddin'? She won't leave me alone! She gets mad at me because she's got such a huge crush on the guy, and Ah'm like, You can have him, Ah sure as shoot don't want him. Don't get me wrong, Ah love Rarity to death, but that girl has some serious jealousy problems."

Soarin was beginning to wonder if they were talking about him. It couldn't be. It was true that he had the tendency to 'admire' her - maybe - but he was always careful to not make it too obvious. But if he disgusted her so much, why was she being so nice to him over breakfast? The Applejack he knew wasn't two-faced. And what was all this stuff about Rarity? Rarity had a crush on him? The only thing he knew about that unicorn is that she was extremely flamboyant, and she knocks your ass out when you try to rescue her. Soarin involuntarily rubbed his jaw as he remembered the blow she inflicted on him that fateful day she plummeted from Cloudsdale.

"Give the guy a break, cuz." Braeburn grunted as he hoisted his now-sealed barrel onto his back. "You know how those rich and famous types are. He's just a little eccentric, that's all. And Miss Rarity, well, she'll get over it."

"Eccentric or not, famous or not - you don't know what its like to be stared at like you're a piece of salt lick, and to make matters worse, have your best friend hate you over something you have absolutely no control of. Ah don't want him on the farm, and Ah damn sure don't want him around me - especially when Ah'm trying to work. Ah'm not in the habit of talking about ponies when they ain't around to defend themselves, so Ah'll just leave it that."

Soarin turned around and slumped his back against the tree with a vacant look in his eyes. They **were** talking about him! What other rich, semi-famous stallion has been here besides him? _She really wants me gone?_

A loud thump resonated from the cart when Breburn dropped the barrel in place among the other containers. There was a long silence until he finally said with a cold seriousness in his voice, "You want me to get rid of him when he comes back?"

Soarin felt his heart drop into his gut, not believing that Braeburn, one of the nicest guys he had ever met, would offer such a service against him with such a callousness in his tone. He had thought a friend of Braeburn up until now.

"That's real sweet of you, but no. He ain't gonna be here for very long, so it's not like it matters. Ah just can't wait till we're rid of him. Out of the farm, out of the city, and out of mah life, and If he thinks he can come around here whenever he wants like he's one of the family, he's got another thing comin'."

Applejack's statement was like a dagger thrust into his heart. He never truly thought of himself as one of the family, but is still devastated him to hear her say something like that. The hurt of all the past grievances inflicted on him manifested once again as a vice grip on his heart. It made its way up to his throat, but Soarin swallowed it. _No, no more feeling sorry for myself! I've done nothing but try, and try, and try, and it's never been good enough for anyone._ He looked up at the sky, and entertained the thought of just flying away and never returning, but he quickly decided against it. He wasn't going to quit this time. He was surrounded by backbiters who smiled at him through their teeth while concealing daggers behind their backs, which was no different than how things were when he was in the Wonderbolts. He decided that his only way out was through a pink slip. At least that way he could tell himself that he didn't give up and quit like he did with everything else. He stepped out from his concealment and glared at Applejack, waiting to be noticed.

Braeburn was the first to notice him. "Well, look who's back!" he said with a bright smile. "Just in time, too. Ah think the rear axle on the wagon's got a bad seem. Guess who gets to learn how to use a welding torch?"

"Hey, sugarcube," Applejack greeted him with a sweetness that practically made Soarin's stomach lurch. "Heard ya took mah baby sister to school. That was so sweet of you!"

The memories of all the humiliation and indignation Soarin had ever endured swirled about in his mind like a raging thunderstorm as he watched her smile at him. The way she was just talking about how she wanted nothing more but to have him out of her life, and then to just turn around and smile at him like that. It exacerbated his already foul mood. The more he looked at her, the more he saw Spitfire. His rage bubbled inside him until it was dangerously close to reaching a fever pitch. He wordlessly walked past her, and he hitched the wagon. "Lets get these apples to the cellar, then we'll weld this axle," he said with a level of restraint that surprised himself.

Applejack trotted beside him, smiling that fake smile of hers. "So, Ah was thinkin' maybe we could go out for lunch? You ain't had a burger 'til you been to the hay burger."

"No." Soarin said curtly. "You and Braeburn go without me. I have an axle to fix."

"Uhm, well, A-Ah m-meant just you and me, that is, if y'all wanted."

Soarin noted Applejack's nervous demeanor with curiosity. "No," he said once more. "I already had my break."

"Well, ya gotta eat!" Applejack insisted. She sounded as if she was becoming frustrated.

"I'm not hungry!"

"You ain't now, but Ah'm talkin' about lunch time! You know, in a few hours?"

"No, now leave me alone!" Soarin quickened his pace to the apple cellar with a grimace. He noticed Applejack was no longer perusing him. He slowed and turned his head around to see what she was doing.

Applejack stood there with a sullen look until Braeburn joined her. She shook her head and said something to him. Braeburn said something back to her. It almost sounded like "I'll find out." Then he hugged her and trotted until he was side-by-side with Soarin and the cart. He kept his eyes forward and asked, "You wanna talk about it?"

_Look at this bastard pretending to care!_ "Talk about what?"

"Anything that may be on your mind."

"Eh, nothing too serious," Soarin offered with a sardonic shrug. "You know, just a little back pain. Feels kinda like someone plunged a dagger into it."

"Mister Soarin, whatever the reason for this attitude of yours, Ah can't say that Ah appreciate it. And Ah don't know if y'all noticed, but you just hurt mah cousin's feelings."

"Well, I guess you could always get rid of me," Soarin said accusingly.

"Ah'd really rather not have to do that, if Ah could avoid it," Braeburn replied calmly. "Look, ah know we're guys, and what not, and we ain't supposed to talk about our feelings, but Ah'm here, alright? It's like grandma said: family."

Soarin stopped. The wagon behind him jerked, and the barrels rattled together. "Family?" Soarin laughed humorlessly. "Do you want to know what family is?"

Breaburn remained silent.

"Familial love is nothing but conditional affection. Everyone loves you when you're on the top of your game, oh, but when you fall, who's going to be there to catch you? No one! No one catches you, Braeburn - they only gather around you to mock you and kick you until you're forced to drag yourself back to your hooves!" Soarin roared with pint up fury as he slashed the air with his hoof. "Everyone treats you like you're a burden! They make you feel like they'd be better off if you just laid down and died. But they don't tell you that to your face, do they?" Soarin glared at Braeburn, who only returned a look that was half laced with concern and confusion.

Soarin scowled at him with a trembling jaw before turning away and continuing down the trail to the cellar. He didn't care about restraining his temper anymore. He was going to be fired anyway, so what did it matter?


	5. Forsaken

The hour moved seamlessly as Soarin and Braeburn worked to repair the wagon axle. Soarin hadn't any experience to speak of when it came to metal work, but Braeburn stood close by, his black goggles reflecting the intense strobes of light as he instructed Soarin through the task. Fire flashed, metal hissed, and slowly the fracture in the wagon axle melted, joined, and mended, the flame making contact on the metal like a white-hot rose spewing forth a bronzed shower of blazing pollen. The barrage of sparks stung as they singed Soarin's fur, but it was a sensation that was becoming easier and easier to ignore. As long as his face and eyes were shielded, he'd be fine.

"That should do it." Braeburn announced. "Yer a natural at this."

Soarin removed his welding mask and twisted the valve on the side of the torch head, causing the blue flame to retreat soundlessly into the nozzle. The raised line where the metal had bonded glowed cherry red as warped tendrils of blurred air wafted about the crease.

"We'll give it a few minutes to cool down before we move it," Braeburn advised, removing his goggles. He approached the metal axle where it lay clamped over an iron bench between two large vice grips and gazed appraisingly at Soarin's work. "Solid work," he critiqued with an approving nod. "Ah can't believe this is your first time using a welding torch; this is journeyman's level craftsmanship, at least!"

Soarin grunted in compliance as he unscrewed the acetylene cylinder from the butt of the torch. He then carried the head piece to an oil-stained craftsman's table where he began its disassembly.

"So," Braeburn said softly, "anything on yer mind? Anything at all?"

"The task at hoof," Soarin replied curtly as he proceeded to disassemble the torch, securing each metal part within the loops of a leather welding kit laid out across the table. He had become standoffish since his outburst, speaking only in laconicisms when spoken to.

Braeburn shook his head, unsatisfied by Soarin's answer. "Can ya open up just a bit? Ah'm startin' to think that ya don't like me."

"Huh," Soarin replied disinterestedly, slipping another piece of the torch into the kit.

Braeburn sighed impatiently. "Look, Ah ain't gonna dance around this subject all day with you."

"Then don't."

"You seem upset. You've seemed upset since the first day you were here - now even more-so. You remind me of some sort of brooding war veteran, and you only seem to be getting worse."

"That so?" Soarin tried to sound like he wasn't interested, but Braeburn's statement piqued his curiosity.

"Its like you're manically depressed. Ah ask if you're okay, and you say you're fine, but Ah look into your eyes, and Ah can tell that... Well... Yer not. The only one Ah ever heard you open up to was Apple Bloom, and that was the first day Ah met you. Somethin' about how its a blessing to know where you belong?"

There was a long silence before Soarin spoke again. Finally, after pondering carefully over his answer, he said, "Kids are easy to talk to." Soarin spoke slowly, methodical not to betray any emotion in his tone. "They're easy to understand. They cry when they hurt. They smile when they're happy. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, and don't care what anyone else thinks of it. Children are genuine. Sometimes they're even brutally honest. That is, until they grow up, become more socially aware of all the fakes around them, and the choice to either assimilate or become an outcast is thrust upon them."

Breburn nodded as if he had confirmed something. "So, you admire a child's ability to express themselves openly? Is that because its something that, deep down, you wish you could do?"

Soarin turned his head slightly and cast a glare upon the prying earth pony from over his shoulder. Something about his questioning was coming off as derisive. "And what are you, a psychologist? What's next, you gonna ask me if my daddy ever hugged me?"

"You see that?" Said Braeburn, pointing a confirming hoof. "You use sarcasm and snark to mask your feelings. You say you admire forwardness, but you just seem to be one of those fakes you have so much contempt for."

Soarin whirled his body around to face him and spat, "I'm not masking anything! I don't go on about myself because no one cares. And why should they? Everyone has their problems, so why should mine matter? And why do you keep pretending to care? Are you digging for ammunition to use against me?"

"Wow," Breburn retorted with exaggerated amazement. "Borderline cynicism, trust issues, misanthropic tendencies towards society, anything else you got to add to this laundry list of yours?"

"You think I'm some sort of puzzle for you to solve?" Soarin demanded. "I'm not falling for this nice guy facade you're putting on for me. You're just trying to lull me into a false sense of security, and I'm not going to fall for it!"

"And paranoia to boot," Braeburn concluded. "Ah ain't tryin' to be mean, but you got some demons, partner."

"Who doesn't?" Soarin asked.

"Ah'll bet you're an alcoholic, too."

"You know what, how about I ask you a question?" Soarin said, evading the prying stallion's speculatory, albeit accurate assumption. He tugged his welding glove off and pointed a demanding hoof toward Braeburn. "How about you tell me something candid about you, for a change!"

"Why do you want to know about me?"

Soarin shrugged. "I answered one of your questions. Several, actually. Now, it's your turn to answer one of mine. An answer for an answer."

"Sounds fair, Ah suppose." Braeburn removed his hat and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, this may be a bit of a cliche, but Pa' skedaddled after Ah was born. 'Cause of him, Ah never got to go to school. Soon as Ah was able to walk, Ah had to help 'Ma tend to our farm. Ah don't even so much as remember what the dirty ol' rascal looked like. Good thing, too. Ah might kill him if Ah ever see him." Braeburn paused, and he concluded with a light-hearted laugh, "But hey, 'least he didn't name me Sue before be ran off."

"Oh, so you're a bastard, then?" Soarin scoffed. "My dad's dead. What else you got for me?"

"Hey, look at that, We just had ourselves a breakthrough!" Braeburn suddenly announced with a proud smile.

Soarin tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow, bewildered. "What?"

"You finally shared something about yourself!" Braeburn placed his hat over his chest and closed his eyes mournfully. "Ah'm sorry to hear about yer daddy. Ah don't know what it's like to have one, but if Ma' ever left me, that'd be heartache Ah just wouldn't be prepared to deal with."

"Oh, come off it with the good guy act, would you!" Soarin spat.

"Mister Soarin, if you'd just tell me what's goin' on with you—"

"Hey, Braeburn, where you at?" Big Mac's deep resonating voice called out from somewhere outside accompanied with the thump of heavy lumbering hoof steps.

"Ah'm in the tool shed," Braeburn replied.

A few moments later the door to the shed opened, and Big Mac's imposing frame blocked the light from the outside as he entered. He turned his head to Soarin with a silent nod of acknowledgement. Soarin returned his gesture with a curt wave.

"Brae, need yer help with somethin'," reported Big Mac.

"What is it?" Asked Braeburn.

"The city stage needs to be fixed before the Ponyville day festival in a few days. Mayor's willing to pay a fat commission for its repair. You in? Fifty fifty?"

"What's wrong with the stage?" Soarin asked with half interest.

"You broke it," Breburn and Big Mac replied simultaneously.

Soarin rubbed the back of head with a sheepish grin. "Oh, yeah."

Braeburn placed his hat back on his head and asked, "when would we be headin' out?"

"Right now, We only have a few days, so it's gotta get done quick."

Braeburn turned to Soarin, but before he could say anything, Soarin said, "Go ahead, I can finish up here on my own."

"You sure? Ah could help out with the axle, and then go meet up with Big Mac in town later. That sucker's pretty heavy."

"We unbolted the wheels and dismounted the axle together, It shouldn't be too difficult to do the process in reverse. If I hit any snags, I'll come find you."

"Alright," surrendered Braeburn with a shrug. "Why don't you go ahead and take the rest of the day off after yer done here. Ah think you need some time to clear your head."

"Might as well," Soarin replied, doing poorly to restrain the maliciousness in his tone. "It's not like I'm going to be around here much longer anyway, right?"

Braeburn looked perplexed by Soarin's statement, but he shrugged it off. "You got all the tools and lumber we need for the job?" He asked, looking to Big Mac.

"The Mayor is supplying us with all the resources we need. She's even having her personal chef provide us with a free lunch."

"What's the job pay?" Braeburn inquired as he started toward the door with Big Mac following close behind.

"Two thousand up front - two thousand when it's done."

"City folk sure are generous," Braeburn chuckled as they exited the shed, closing the door behind them. The two stallions' chatter became faint to Soarin's ears as they distanced themselves further from the shed.

Soarin turned to the axle and sighed listlessly. It did look pretty heavy, but if Braeburn could lift it, then so could he. He inspected the freshly welded crease to make sure it was safe to touch. The glowing red seam was now a cool raised line, like freshly-healed scar tissue from an experienced surgeon's scalpel. Soarin ran his hoof over it, appreciating his work. "Might as well get this over with," he sighed reluctantly.

Soarin unfastened the clamps and, with a heavy grunt, heaved the axle onto his back. The veins in his neck pulsed as they raised from his skin, he clamped his teeth, his legs shook violently. He was just about to let the axle slam down on the ground so he could think of another way to get it out of the shed, but he realized that if he dropped it he might damage the floor. Seeing no other option to his disposal, he dragged himself toward the door.

_Damn Braeburn for making this look so easy!_

Soarin tapped the door open with the tip of the axle and painstakingly strafed his way through the narrow exit. Blots were beginning to form in his vision, and his breathing became labored as he made his way to the side of the tool shed where the upturned wagon awaited him. He didn't know how he did it, but he eventually made it.

Methodically positioning himself between the two brackets where the axle would be placed, Soarin heaved the heavy piece shoulder level. Breathing heavily and irregularly through his clenched teeth, he grunted loudly and, with another heave, thrust the axle over his head, as if he were gorilla pressing it. He then dropped it down, letting it slam down onto its iron placings with a thunderous crash.

A numbness rushed through Soarin's body the second he was relieved of the weight, and all he could feel was an intense burning sensation in his back and legs. He slumped over the wagon with a heavy sigh. His mane was soaked with perspiration. It stuck to the sides of his neck and hung in front of his face, obscuring his features as he gasped to catch his breath. He blinked and rubbed his eyes vigorously in an attempt to snuff out the dark spots that threatened to envelope his vision.

"My, my, what an Impressive feat of brute strength!" Applauded a flamboyant voice.

Soarin's head snapped up, but his sudden movement sent a twinge of pain through his soar body. All he could make out in his exhausted state was a bronzed blot standing across from the wagon. "Who's that?"

"I'm absolutely heart-broken that you wouldn't recognize me!" The blur exclaimed.

"That metro sexual idiolect..."

"Oh, my dear Soarin, metro is soooo last week. Get with the times, man!"

Soarin zeroed his vision in on the blur until the pony's features became more distinguishable. He was a unicorn: thin, tall, and wiry - sporting a designer sweater with a side pocket that accommodated a hair comb. "Trenderhoof," Soarin groaned with dismay.

"Very good, I'm flattered!" Said the unicorn through a row of gleaming white teeth, which seemed far too bright to be natural.

Soarin grunted as he pushed himself up from the wagon and said, "I believe all the Wonderbolts know who you are. You've shown up to enough of our after-show parties."

"Good sir, it is my job as a traveling writer to attend and review the many soirees and shindigs of Equestria."

"And yet, you always go on about yourself as if **you're** the one being interviewed."

"Well, I am the most interesting pony in Equestria," Replied Trenderhoof, patting himself on the chest with a pompous air of self-appreciation. "Who wouldn't want to know all about me?"

"Whatever you say." Soarin rolled his eyes. "So, what's such an omnipotent being who drinks only the finest elder wines from the holy grail doing among us lesser dirt-grubbing mortals? And let me know if I should avert my eyes."

Trenderhoof removed his glasses and began cleaning them, sighing passively in response to Soarin's impertinence. "I'm here to write a review on the Ponyville day celebration. I came here early to tour the town and take in the sites so I can get a vibe for the place."

"Uh huh, well, this isn't Ponyville." Soarin informed with a blunt rudeness in his tone. "This is Sweet Apple Acres."

"I know that!" Trenderhoof shot back. "But - as is the unpredictable nature of these things - I have fallen deeply, madly in love!"

The edge of Soarin's lip curved into a sly smile. "Sorry, but you're not really my type. Maybe it's the glasses?"

"It's nice to see that you haven't lost that sense of humor of yours, but no, I wasn't talking about you. Her name is Applejack."

Soarin eyes narrowed. "Applejack, huh?"

"Yes, Applejack!" Trenderhoof said, suddenly thrusting his hooves in the air like an overenthusiastic poet reciting the writs of Quilland Ink. "She is the most beautiful mare in all of Equestria! I have come to extend to her the incredible honor of being my escort for the Ponyville day celebration. She will accept, of course, and it is there where I shall make her fall madly in love with me, as I have with her!"

Soarin remained silent as he retrieved a ratchet and some bolts from an old coffee can he and Braeburn had stored them in. He aligned the threaded holes of the axle with those of the wagon, adjusting them accordingly to properly fit the bolts. "But does **she** know that?" He asked, keeping his eyes focused on his task.

Trenderhoof turned his head and smiled. "She'll know soon enough. One look into my luscious lavenders and she'll know who her very special sompony is meant to be."

Soarin inserted the bolts in the aligned threadings and twisted them into place. "Huh," was all he could think of to say. He was doubting that this guy would be Applejack's type, which brought him to another thought: why did he care?

"May I ask you why you're here, Soarin?" Trenderhoof Finally asked, shifting the subject. "Last I heard, you had quit the Wonderbolts. I must say that I am quite surprised to run into you here."

"News travels fast," Soarin observed as he continued working. "I'm employed here."

"You... Work here?" Trenderhoof asked, his eyes widening with astonishment. "You lucky bastard! You must get to see Applejack all the time!"

"A position for a new farm hand will be opening up soon," Soarin said. "I'm pretty sure I'll be out of here before tomorrow comes."

"Oh, so you're leaving?"

Soarin grunted confirmingly.

Trenderhoof's eyes narrowed as if he were deep in thought. "This is uncanny. It's like the universe is trying to tell me that I belong here. As exciting as my life is as a writer, I wouldn't mind working and living here along side that beautiful mare." His expression softened, then he said, "She **is** beautiful, wouldn't you agree?"

"She's..." Soarin paused. He wanted to disagree, but the memory of Applejack's soaking wet form suddenly intruded on his thoughts. The tips of his ears turned red, and a strange churning sensation could be felt in the pit of his stomach. He had to clear his throat before he could speak again. "She's okay, I guess," he stammered.

"Oh, I dare say, she's more than okay. Now, if you'd excuse me, I must inquire my Applejack about the job opening before anypony else can swoop in and takes it." The unicorn's smile gleamed like sunlight upon polished marble as he politely dipped his head before turning away. "Farewell, Soarin. I do hope that our paths will cross again."

Soarin glared at him as he sauntered away with that annoying spring in his step. For reasons that he wasn't completely sure of, he was beginning to harbor an intense loathing for that unicorn.

With the axle firmly mounted and the wheels bolted on, his job was complete. Soarin had pushed the wagon over onto its wheels and rolled it back and forth experimentally to gauge his work. Satisfied, he looked around at the surrounding orchards and remembered that he now had the rest of the day off.

Soarin wasn't used to having free time. There was always something that needed to be done at the academy, or when he was on tour with the Wonderbolts, but what was there to do here? He would need to find a hobby - some means of productive entertainment while he wasn't on the job. He thought for a second, then remembered he wouldn't even have his job for long. It seemed that all he would have from now on was free time. He decided to walk instead of fly back to his barn, so that he could explore the orchards and meditate over what he would do with his life after his employment with the Apples was terminated. _Now,_ he thought to himself as he strolled at a lazy pace, _what could a stallion with plenty of funds and unlimited free time do to occupy himself?_

* * *

><p>When Soarin had finally made his way to his barn an hour later, a somber sense of detachment loomed about him. He had been weighing his options out for the past hour and he still didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. He didn't know what hobbies he would enjoy, or what kind of job he should look for next. Soarin had been a Wonderbolt his entire adult life - the thought of being anything else felt strange to him. It was like he lacked an identity now.<p>

He entered his barn and surveyed the plethora of ancient tools and dusty old crates piled up against the walls. His barn must have been used for storage after it had served its purpose. Soarin chuckled at the irony. "Storage." That was a good word to describe him. He wasn't good at anything, and he wasn't particularly passionate about anything either. He simply existed to occupy space... Like storage.

Out of sheer boredom, Soarin decided to inspect some of the relics within the old wood crates. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

He came across a few antiques: some glass figurines, some tools, a few dusty old black and white photo albums. He even found an old duster coat. It was brown and faded like old raw hide, but the material still felt tough and resilient. Soarin thought it kinda neat. It reminded him of what the cowboys would wear in those corny old silent westerns. He folded it as neatly as he could and set it aside, not being able to bring himself to stuff something so intriguing back into the crate with the rest of the obscure crap.

Soarin continued his impromptu salvage expedition and, among the antiques, he found a flat, circular object. The outer rim of its circular body had an elegant design to it, like the pattern of a tightly braided rope made of solid gold. Whatever it was, it seemed valuable. He blew the dust off of its surface, and found that, under the thick layer of dust, was himself staring back at him. It was an antique pocket mirror. He looked hard and long at his reflection. Those craggy bags under his eyes that seemed to be his trademark facial feature were deeper and darker than usual. The reflection he cast was gaunt and grim, green eyes with no trace of vitality left in them. He might as well have been staring into the face of an old world-weary stallion as he drew his last breath on his deathbed. He set the mirror face-down upon the folded duster, not desiring to witness his haggard visage any longer. Soarin was tired, depressed, and lethargic. His eyes pretty much said it all: he had no energy, no motivation. He was exhausted - physically as well as emotionally.

He looked to the hay loft in the upper tier of the barn where that filthy make-shift bed of his had been. If there was one thing on this farm he knew he wouldn't miss, it would be that itchy, flea-ridden straw pile. He then turned his head and eyed his pillow and blankets that were still piled on the ground where he had left them that morning, which once again raised the question of how his bedding got there in the first place. He thought about it for only a moment, then he shrugged, disregarding the riddle. _There's no point in wondering why anyone does the things that they do while they're drunk,_ he finally decided. Whatever reason he had, it was a drunk reason, which probably made a lot more sense last night when he was intoxicated than it would now while he was sober.

With a sigh and a yawn, the somnolent stallion approached his bedding and collapsed into it. Itchy pile of straw, hard wood floor, it was all the same to him. As tired as he was, he could have found comfort on a stone tablet in the Canterlot dungeon. He yawned one last time, curled up, closed his eyes, and drifted away effortlessly into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>A voice suddenly cut through the ether of Soarin's unconsciousness. The voice sounded distant and distorted, but it was vaguely familiar.<p>

"Hey, how long have you been in here? Why are you sleeping on the floor? Can you hear me?"

Groaning, Soarin opened his eyes. He looked up at the blue Pegasus standing before him. It took a second for his half-awake brain to register the face. He scrambled to his hooves in surprise when his mind finally identified the stallion. "Wave Chill!"

"What's up, dude?" Soarin's former teammate greeted in a soft-spoken tone, which was different from the usual Western Equestrian up beat surfer dialect he was accustomed to speaking in. Oddly enough, his mouth was smiling, but his eyes betrayed something different: it was a sadness of some sort, but it was lost on Soarin as he struggled to gather his faculties.

"Hey!" Soarin replied, still surprised. "How did you— When did you—"

"You were easy enough to track down." Wave Chill cut him off, as if he had anticipated Soarin's question. "I figured you'd be somewhere in or round Ponyville. It was all just a matter of asking questions around town. Found a couple of earth ponies that were working on the stage you messed up last night. They pointed me in your direction."

"Oh," Soarin yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad to see you, but you're on the tour roster for this season, aren't you? Shouldn't you be getting ready for your trip?"

"I, uh..." Wave Chill faltered. That was when Soarin noticed he had a canvas messenger bag slung across his shoulder.

Soarin observed his old friend's accessory with a wry smile. "Cute purse," he joked. "Did you come all this way because you wanted me to help you shop for some matching shoes?"

Wave Chill tried to laugh at the joke, but even he himself seemed to be aware of how painfully fake his weak chuckle was.

Soarin was starting to feel uneasy. _Why's he acting so strange?_

"I have something that I think you should see," Wave Chill announced after a moment of silence. He reached into his bag and produced a rolled up newspaper. "The headlines," he stated vaguely.

Soarin looked down at the paper clenched in the crook of his friend's foreleg, bewildered. "You know, I got a glimpse of the headlines this morning. I'm well aware of the carrot shortage in Baltimare."

"That's the Ponyville newspaper, Soarin. This is the Foal Street Journal."

"Since when do you read that over-hyped sensationalist bullsh—"

"Soarin!" Wave Chill cut him off hotly. "Just read it."

Soarin took the paper from him, curious as to why Wave Chill could be acting so strange. He sat back on his haunches, unfolded the paper, and checked the front page headlines. He blanched as he read them out loud. "Soarin abandons Cloudsdale; Wonderbolts fans in outrage." The edges of the paper rattled in his shaking hooves. He glanced up at Wave Chill, as if confirm the legitimacy of the article.

"Read on," he advised.

Soarin did as he instructed.

_Sources have indeed confirmed the unfathomable: it appears that the Wonderbolts will not be taking home the gold in the Equestria games this year. In fact, they will not be competing at all. It's hard to believe this and accept it as reality, as it is well known that Cloudsdale has won the gold in the Equestria games for the past ten consecutive years. The Wonderbolts, since they had started competing in the games a whole decade ago, have never lost, but this year they will not even be competing. Why is this, you may ask? Because the beloved bolts have decided to give some other team a chance this year? That's a good guess, but no. It turns out that the Wonderbolts have been having issues as of late, and when we at the Foal Street Journal say "issues," we mean Soarin. The beloved poster boy of the Wonderbolts, as difficult as it is to believe, has abandoned Cloudsdale over reasons that have not been confirmed, however, our sources have reason to believe that it was due to "financial issues." Now, when we say "financial issues," we don't mean like the kind of financial issues that an average pony like we, or you, our dear reader, would have. No. While it is unfortunate that many of us normal ponies may have difficulties feeding our families and keeping up with our bills, or Celestia forbid, drowning in debt, we have Soarin, who's salary has been confirmed to be but a meager 3.5 million bits a year, which apparently was not enough for him to etch out a living for himself._

Soarin continued reading, the outrage within him intensifying with every sentence. The media had sought to embellish the facts with half-truths in order to demonize him as much as they possibly could. The story was laced with conjecture that was written in a way to have the believer perceive them as facts. Every time the paper would disclose information about him that was complete bullshit, it would validate the falsities by saying it was confirmed by a "witness" or a "reliable source." It didn't take Soarin long to guess who this "source" was.

"Spitfire," he growled as if her very name was a curse. He set the paper down and cast a feral glare toward Wave Chill. "Where is she?"

"This isn't Spitfire's fault."

"Then, who's is it!" Soarin roared. "Do you have any idea what this is going to do to me? I'll never be able to show my face in public again!"

"Calm down! Spitfire didn't say those things about you."

"That so?" Soarin said doubtingly.

"Yes, that is so. Look, the press **did** come to Spitfire for answers, but all she gave them were unembellished, unbiased facts. I was standing right there when she was being interviewed. The publisher is just running wild with the story to sell papers. You know how the media is. Besides, you have no right to be mad at anyone but yours-" Wave Chill stooped himself. He knew he had just crossed a line.

"I'm sorry?" Soarin demanded in an unstintingly calm voice. "What was that?"

Wave Chill paused, thinking of a way to rectify his statement. "Look," he said, "I understand what you've been going through, I do... But... Soarin, man, I just... You shouldn't have bailed."

"I 'bailed' because I was sick of being lied to and treated like dead weight!"

"You didn't have to quit right before the preliminaries!" Wave Chill shot back defensively. "Oh, but you didn't quit there! You somehow forced Spitfire into spoiling that grand finale we've been working on for the Los Pegasus air show. And thanks for that, by the way. She's only fricken livid about it, and she's been taking it out an anyone who crosses her path!"

"And she should have been happy for the honor. She owed Rainbow Dash a debt that she never intended to pay!"

"I owe who now?" Spitfire's voice rang out, bringing a sudden halt to the argument.

Wave Chill paled, his posture stiffening as the captain entered the barn through the hole in the roof. The dust from the ground raised all around her as she landed. "C-captain, where— how—"

"I followed you here," said Spitfire. "I figured your little bromance with Soarin would cloud your judgement and convince you to make a stupid decision like this. You know we can't be seen with him anymore, Wave Chill; it would further damage our already wounded reputation."

"I was just trying to help Soarin to see the weight of his— uh... Decision to, uh... The repercussions of him abandoning us, ma'am."

Soarin's eyes widened in betrayal and disbelief. "Excuse me!"

Wave Chill glanced back at Soarin with a combination of panic and guilt in his eyes, as if to offer an unspoken apology.

Spitfire smiled, looking rather pleased by Soarin's hurt reaction. "That's okay, Wave Chill," She began. "I can forgive you this one time. But, as I have said, we shouldn't be mingling with such disreputable company." The captain's wrathfully accusing eyes fell upon Soarin with the last two words of her sentence.

They glared at each like two wild beasts ready to rip each other apart over the slightest indiscretion. Soarin had never felt such an intense loathing in his entire life, and he knew such was the same for his former captain. But she started it. It was her fault. It was all her fault. She chased him away from the team, and now she was dragging his name through the mud for some sick sense of retribution. He should have known things would happen like this. Spitfire always, always got the last laugh. He had never heard of anyone crossing her and getting away with it.

"Wave Chill." Spitfire broke the silence, her gaze remaining hotly zeroed like a glaring statue - never moving - never faltering. "Why don't you head on home now. I would like a quick word with Soarin... Alone."

Wave Chill hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"Wave Chill!"

Wordlessly, the Wonderbolt turned around and paced toward the barn door.

"Waves," Soarin called out to him. "Whats all this about how you can't be seen with me anymore?'"

The Wonderbolt came to a dead stop, but he didn't turn around.

The silence was all the answer Soarin needed. He felt a solid lump forming in his throat as he began to understand the meaning of Spitfire's words. It took all his strength to speak without his voice quivering. He refused to cry. He wouldn't give Spitfire the satisfaction. "Am I ever going to see you again?"

Silence. Wave Chill continued toward the door.

"Waves... We've been friends since flight school. We enrolled in the academy together... Please..." Soarin breathed heavily as a tear rolled down his face. He did his damndest to hold them back, but he couldn't. They flowed through his ducts and forced their way through like a battered dam giving under the force of an overflowing river. He knew he looked stupid, but his dignity was the last thing on his mind.

Wave Chill stopped again. His body tremored.

Spitfire rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Wave Chill, just say whatever it is you want to say!"

Again there was only silence.

"Spit it out!"

"Waves," Soarin pleaded.

The Wonderbolt turned around, keeping his head down, not wanting to make eye-contact. He sighed, then finally said in a shaky voice, "We've had some good times, man. But this is my career. I'm not as eager to leave it behind as you were. I came here to say goodbye, and, I'm sorry." And with those parting words, he turned around and made that long walk to the door, closing it behind him.

Soarin felt cold as a profound feeling of emptiness came over him. "Are you happy, Spitfire?" He said. "I made you lose out on the games - you've taken everything from me. My reputation, my dignity, my best friend, everything. You won. I have nothing now. I ask you, are you happy?"

There was a long silence. And then, "So, how was she?" Her voice was so casual, almost cheerful.

Soarin looked up at her. She was now standing across from him at an arm's length. "How was who?"

"Rainbow Dash. Was she as sweet and tight as you hoped?"

Soarin cocked his head to the side, legitimately astonished at the accusation. "I don't... What?!"

Spitfire's face contorted with disgust. "Oh, don't even try to play dumb. You must have been hoping for something pretty special in return for dragging me and the others to that girl's birthday party," she spat. "Typical stallion!"

"Why are you doing this to me? You've already won. You've taken everything from me, and now you're just throwing baseless accusations around, and for what, just to kick me while I'm down? What have I done to deserve—"

Spitfire suddenly laughed over Soarin's voice, then her face relaxed into a mocking grin. "What did you do to deserve this? Were you really going to ask me that?" She laughed again. "You, Soarin, are the biggest screw up I have ever had the displeasure of flying with! You never took anything seriously, and all you did was bring the team down! And then, what do you do? You found a way to make us suck even more: you bailed on us when we actually needed you for once! But no... Oh, no! You weren't finished there. You really had to find a way to rub some salt in the wound. You come blackmail me, you force me to throw away the grand finale I have been spending the past six months developing and practicing for. And for what? To spite me? For a booty call? I don't care what your reasoning was! You're destined for nothing but mystery, with nothing else to look forward to but a filth-ridden gutter as your grave, and you won't rest until you've pulled everyone around you down with you!" Spitfire about-faced, and made her way to the exit, not bothering to wait for a retort. Just as she placed her hoof on the door, she turned and tossed over her shoulder, "From what it sounds like, you didn't even get laid. You got nothing for all your efforts. Look around you, Soarin. Look how far you've fallen. You have nothing, and that's all you are now: Nothing!"

She turned to the door when it suddenly opened, and in ran a group of four little fillies who bumped into her. Soarin recognized the fillies: They were Apple Bloom and her friends from the school. He didn't know what he was going to say to them. He was too stunned from Spitfire's speech. He could have expected her to say the cruelest, most vile things to him, yet she'd always end up saying something that took him off guard and cut through the emotional armor he bolstered up around himself.

"Oop, please excuse me!" Spitfire said to them with a mellifluous trill in her voice.

Soarin's jaw dropped.

"Oh my gosh!" The the ivory unicorn exclaimed. "Spitfire! It's captain Spitfire!"

"That's me!" Spitfire replied with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Are you little ladies just coming from school?"

"It really is her!" The silver one who tried to make a move on Soarin that morning put it. "Oh, my gosh! Can I please have an autograph? I can't believe it's really you - here, of all places. Did you come by to visit Soarin?"

"Something like that," replied Spitfire, still smiling. "You said you wanted an autograph? Do you have a pen?"

Soarin watched in utter disgust as Spitfire suddenly had these fillies wrapped around her hoof. She signed their binders, told them a joke, and they all shared laugh, and she bid them farewell, tossing back one last glare at Soarin before leaving, which the fillies didn't seem to notice. Soarin learned all the fillies' names as he watched the exchange.

"I can't believe how nice she is!" Silver spoon exclaimed.

The other three, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo, seemed to be just as starstruck.

Soarin felt an immeasurable and inconsolable animosity flowing through him. He knew that, for all his frustration, there was nothing he could ever do about it. Nobody would ever take his side, not against Spitfire. Her craft in the ways of speech could lead one to believe the opposite of everything they believed with one or two words. She was a master, and he knew that she had intended for him to see the act she had just put on. She wanted to show him how potent her powers of manipulation were. It was a way of saying 'don't mess with me. I can make this worse.'

The four fillies continued to go on about how cool and nice Spitfire was, until they approached Soarin, who just stared vacantly, as if he were an empty husk drained of vital essence.

Apple Bloom tugged at him, but he didn't respond. "Mr Soarin?" She said. "You okay?"

Soarin didn't respond. It was as if he was catatonic.

"Mr Soarin?"

Silver Spoon looked at him sideways and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. "Hey there, future hubby."

Again, no response.

"What's wrong with him?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Not enough protein in his diet, perhaps?" Guessed Scootaloo. "Rainbow Dash told me that can mess with your reaction timing."

Applebloom thought for a moment, then brightened as an idea came to her. She dug through her book bag and pulled out her potion manual, then flipped the pages until she came to her book mark. She ran up to Soarin and held it out for him to see, but he didn't look. "Mr Soarin, you know you were tellin' me 'bout how ya can't remember last nights events? Well, Ah might'a found a way to help you with—"

"Alone..." Soarin said under his breath, gathering the newspaper off the ground so that the little ones couldn't see it and bare witness to his shame.

"What was that now?" Apple Bloom asked, setting her book down.

"Alone... I want to be alone." With a blank look, Soarin turned, shuffled to a corner of his barn, curled up, and it was there he laid, completely unresponsive to the fillies' efforts to communicate with him.

After almost a half hours of trying, Apple Bloom finally said, "Ah think we better leave him alone for now, girls... He'll talk to us when he's ready."

"But what's wrong with him?" demanded Silver Spoon. "I can't have a vegetable as a husband!"

"Knock that off!" Scootaloo barked. "Let's just do as Apple Bloom says. I don't think we're going to get anything else out of him."

the fillies groaned reluctantly in agreement. Soarin could hear them scampering away, but he suddenly felt his blanket draping over him. He turned, curious, and he saw Silver Spoon smiling at him. It was an act of kindness. Something that was so foreign to him. "...Thanks, kid..." He managed.

She blushed before turning and scurrying away to catch up with the others.

Soarin waited until he heard the door close. He looked back to insure no one was around. Satisfied that no one was there or near, he wrapped his arms round himself and curled into a fetal position. The newspaper with that detestable article plastered across it lay only a few inches from him, face up, as if to mock him. His identity, his team, his friend, his dignity, his reputation, everything gone. Soon enough he wouldn't even have his job anymore. He would have nothing. Soarin's grip over his chest tightened. A strange, insecure feeling came over him. He felt like a ghost, like he had nothing or no one that could validate his existence. He felt like he had no anchors to this world, like he could just float off from the plane of existence at any moment. The abandonment he felt was like a weight in his chest. But it wasn't abandonment. It felt more like he was forsaken.


	6. A hard night's work

The inside of Soarin's barn had begun its transition from a run down shack - to its macabre form that it maintained in the twilight hours. Dusty beams of light from the waning sun bled through the cracks of the hovel, elongating the shadows of the objects within, giving their silhouetted forms a rather sinister appearance. A cool breeze shifted the building slightly, jostling the rusted chains hanging from the rafters, which clanked in cadence along with the structure's groaning wood. The scythe and hedge scissors hanging on rusted nails tapped unstintingly against the wall every time the wind blew, adding to the eldritch symphony. Soarin stared morosely into the corner and listened to the odd sounds his dilapidated building made as he reflected on his life.

His emotions went through stages as he laid there: It started with depression, then went to self pity, then turned to anger, and eventually grew into hatred. He hated Wave Chill. He hated Spitfire. And above all else, Soarin hated himself. Ultimately, the one who was truly at fault was he. He could have stood up for himself a little more. He could have tried a little harder during his practice sessions with his team, which might have aided him in avoiding the situation in which he now found himself. He sighed despairingly. He could have done this. He could have done that. But what was, simply was; there was no getting around it.

The crestfallen Pegasus' ear twitched when he heard a bell in the distance. Granny Smith's voice could be heard from across the pasture.

"Come and get it, everypony! Soup's on!"

Soarin uncurled from the corner and, with a sigh, he forced himself onto his hoofs. He didn't want to be late for his termination. In a way, he couldn't wait for it to be over and done with. Whether the whole family was going to be in on firing him, or if it was just going to be Applejack telling him off, it didn't matter. It wasn't like he expected anyone to step in and defend him.

He started toward the door, but a sudden, unexpected knock made him freeze in place. Was spitfire back to emasculate him some more? The first series of knocks was proceeded by another. The perturbed stallion swallowed as he steeled himself, attempting to maintain whatever ounce of shallow pride he may have still possessed. "C-come in..."

The door creaked open, and a freckle-pocked face peaked out at him from its border. Soarin felt uneasy as those familiar emerald eyes fell upon him. "Hey there, cowboy." Applejack smiled shyly. "Yer lookin' a bit lonely in here all by yerself."

_Cowboy?_ Soarin thought. _What's this deceitful little mare up to?_

When Applejack pushed the door open and entered the building, Soarin noticed a basket hanging from her neck. "Ah figured that uh..." She smiled timidly, blushing as she stroked the back of her head. "Okay, know what? Let me start over." The farmer cleared her throat. "So, this morning..."

Soarin tilted his head in an inquisitive manner. "This morning?"

"Uh, Ah just wanted to apologize for this morning. You were obviously in a bad mood, and Ah wouldn't stop naggin' you. Ah'm sorry 'bout that. Braeburn told me that somethin' seems to be bothering you, so Ah figured we could talk about it over dinner..." She paused to rub her leg with a hoof, a coy little smile gracing her face as she dipped her head and glanced up at him through her golden bangs. "Just the two of us?"

Soarin glared at her, vexed by her cutsie demeanor. This coy behavior of her's would have normally charmed him, but he saw through her charade. His best friend had just abandoned him, the media was publicly spurning him, and his former captain had all but castrated him. He was not about to let this backwoods hick make a fool of him, too!

"Ah even baked you a fresh apple pie... Y-you still like mah pies, don't ya?"

Applejack tried to smile, but her expression dimmed into awkward confusion when the stallion would only reply with a silent glare. "S-sugarcube, what's wrong?" She set the basket down and approached him with a worried look on her face.

"Nothing that's any of your concern," Soarin replied, a cold resentment in his tone. "Why don't you just do what you came here to do, so I can get the hell out of here!" He scowled at her venomously. That look of confusion and innocence on her face worsened his mood. If only she was aware of how much he knew. "Well? Are you going to fire me? We both know I don't belong here, so get on it with it, already!"

"You don't belong here?" Applejack's brow furrowed in puzzlement. Her mouth twitched several times, as if she didn't even know what to ask first. "Soarin," she finally managed, "yer as good as family 'round here. Remember last night? Where's your hat?"

"My... hat?" Now it was Soarin's turn to be perplexed. A hat? He never wore hats.

Applejack swiveled her head and scanned her eyes around the barn. Finally she noticed the old scarecrow's hat in the corner where Soarin had tossed it that morning. She retrieved it and approached him. "Last night," she hinted as she offered the mangy old accessory to him. "Don't ya remember?"

The baffled stallion, not knowing what to make of the situation, and already in a state of grief, shot a vicious warning glare at her. He didn't know what she was getting at, or what game she was trying to play, but he was well beyond pissed off now. She could at least treat him with **some** dignity.

The farmer lifted the hat to set it on his head.

Soarin's temper finally piqued. "I don't want that filthy thing on my head!" With a quick swing, he smacked the hat out of her hoof, sending it hurling into the wall.

Applejack backed away from him, green eyes wide and watering with dismay. "Are you some kinda mental case!" She demanded in a strained voice.

"Yes! Yes, I am! And it's ponies like you that have made me this way!"

"Ponies like me?"

"Ponies like you!" The ill-tempered stallion jabbed a hoof in her direction. "You selfish, backbiting, two-faced liar! And stop looking at me like you don't know what I'm talking about! It's not enough that my life has been completely ruined, but now you have to come around and mock me?"

The mare's face - while meek and startled at first - began to burn with outrage at Soarin's accusation. "Ain't no one mocking you but the voices in yer head, you paranoid schizophrenic! And how dare you accuse me of being a liar! Ah'm the very essence of honesty, ya hear?"

"Hearing you go on about honesty," Soarin chuckled sardonically, a contemptuous hoof over his face. "It's like a whore preaching the virtues of chastity!"

Applejack's face displayed an array of emotions: Shock, hurt, anger, confusion. Finally she scowled and shoved Soarin back with a surprising amount of force that nearly sent him reeling off his hooves. He found himself having to rear up with his hind legs and counter balance the backwards momentum with his wings to keep from toppling backwards.

"You want me to fire you? Fine! You're fired! Get the hell off mah property!" The inconsolably furious mare's golden hair whipped as she spun around and stomped her way out of the barn, slamming the door so hard on her way out that the entire building shook.

Soarin stood there, glaring at the door for - he didn't know how long. The dark of night had swallowed the farm by the time he finally moved. He thought he'd feel victorious for once. He resisted Applejack's charms and told her off. But no, he felt worse than before. He rationalized with himself over and over again that he didn't do anything wrong. She was just a liar, and a good actor. She planned it all to happen this way! All she had to do was push; and push; and push, until he finally snapped, so that she could make him out to look like the bad guy in all of this... That had to be it...

Nothing worked, no matter how hard he tried to reason with himself. He felt even worse than before. He examined the basket on the ground. Applejack seemed to have forgotten about it in her fit. Moving slowly, Soarin approached it and lifted the lid. Inside of the wicker container was a feast for two: a freshly baked apple pie, two barbecued ears of corn, containers filled with baked beans and mashed potatoes. There was a tin of cornbread, and a thermos full of piping hot tomato soup, and a six pack of Red Buffalo, which just happened to be Soarin's favorite ale. The delicious feast was enough to make Soarin's mouth water. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Did she make all of this for me? Why?" Soarin was flabbergasted. Why would she go through the trouble? She hated him. She wanted him gone. She didn't want him anywhere near her. Those were her exact words.

It didn't make sense. Where was the payoff to all of this? Where was the punchline? He knew what he heard that morning. He disgusted her. Soarin couldn't make heads or tails out of anything. Maybe he really was becoming a mental case. No, that couldn't have been it. One who is truly crazy doesn't perceive themselves to be crazy, do they?

Soarin's head ached unmercifully as he attempted to unravel the quandary. He puzzled, and puzzled, but to no avail. His thoughts eventually turned back to his day - how he had lost everything. He no longer had a job, a reputation, or even a friend. There was nothing to do now but leave, perhaps change his name and wander Equestria. There was nothing else he could do. He espied the beer within the basket, and sighed forlornly. "A few for the road." Soarin groaned. "Why the hell not?"

* * *

><p>Three beers now gone, and the headache began to subside. Soarin knocked back another, emptying the glass vessel's contents with several deep gulps, not even bothering to taste or savor the thick bold body of his favorite beverage. His head buzzed pleasantly as his blood thinned. Just two more to go, then he'd leave. The Apples had yet to pay him for his work, so he decided that this would be his fee. It wasn't like he needed their money anyway. They were behind on their harvest. They needed every bit they could scrounge. Soarin didn't know why he cared about them, but he did. Perhaps it was the alcohol that fueled his sympathy.<p>

Soarin grabbed another bottle and wedged the edge of the cap between the slats of the table, prying it off. Just as he was about to down it, he could hear the hinges of his door wailing. He didn't care who it was. Being polite or accepted by anyone was no longer a concern of his. "Piss off!" He warned, not bothering to know who his visitor was.

"Are you drunk again?"

Soarin dropped the bottle and turned around to see that little red-headed filly standing in the doorway, those amber eyes reflecting the glow of the lantern like shimmering opals. As intoxicated as the stallion was, he couldn't bring himself to take his animosity out on her. He took a breath to correct his tone and said, "kid, what are you doing here? It's getting late. You have school tomorrow, don't you?"

"Ah wanted to give ya somethin'," replied the filly.

Soarin chuckled. "I don't need anything."

"But Ah want to pay you back for gettin' me to school this morning."

"I don't want anything. Just consider the ride to school a freebee, alright?"

"But Ah broke mah back gathering the ingredients!"

"Ingredients?"

The filly nodded as she approached the inebriated stallion. That was when he noticed the satchel slung around her shoulder. "Ingredients," she confirmed. "After school, Ah came here to show you a potion Ah found in the book Ah borrowed from Twilight, but you wouldn't even look at it."

Soarin reached for his last beer. "This is the only potion I need right now, kid."

Apple Bloom hopped up on the table and took it from him. "No, you don't need this. You look like you had enough."

Soarin rested his face on his hooves with a look of amusement, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Oh yeah? Then tell me, little one - what do I need?"

The filly scrunched her face up in revulsion. "You could start with a breath mint."

Soarin snorted. "Quick with that wit, kid. Don't ever lose that sharp tongue of yours. Now, seriously, give me my drink back."

"Ah'll give it to ya upside yer head if you don't pull it out of yer butt and listen to me."

The Pegasus rolled his eyes impatiently. "Okay, fine. I'm listening. What is it?"

"As Ah was saying," the filly continued, "since you was in yer weird little funk, Ah took it upon mahself to search around town for the recipe ah needed for a special concoction. Ah had to stop at the herbal supply store, Ah had to scour Granny's spice rack, Ah even had to walk all the way out to Zecora's hut in the Everfree forest for some of the less ubiquitous items Ah required."

"Okay, I'll bite. You called it a concoction? What's this 'concoction' of yours?" Soarin asked, eager to get back to his bottle.

"Ah was gettin' to that!" Apple Bloom snapped. "It's the potion Ah was tryin' to show you earlier. You told me this morning that you couldn't remember what happened last night. It just so happens that Ah found a potion in mah book that's used to treat amnesia. Just one little sip, and it stimulates the section of your brain that retains short term memories."

"I'd rather stimulate my brain with alcohol," Soarin quipped dryly.

Apple Bloom, rolling her eyes, dug through her satchel and produced a vial of radiant purple fluid that glowed as brightly as the lantern on the table, its surface effervescing with lavender froth. "look, Ah went through a lot of trouble to make this for you. Just take it."

Soarin sighed. "I don't even think I want to remember what happened... It's not like it even matters anymore."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't."

"Ah will not accept that answer. You were hounding me this morning for clues as to what may have happened between you and mah sister, now you just suddenly don't care? Explain!"

"It's a long story. I don't want

30e37

to get into it, now give me my beer back." The Pegasus reached to reclaim the bottle from the filly's grasp, but she whacked Soarin over his hoof with it, causing him to withdrawal in surprise. "What'd you do that for, you little brat?" Soarin glared at her, rubbing his bruised hoof.

"Ah ain't givin' you yer poison back 'til you tell me what's goin' on with you!"

"Why are you acting like you care?"

"Because Ah do care! Ah like you, Soarin; you're a cool guy."

"Kid, that's really sweet of you, but after I finish my drink, I'm out of here. You, nor anyone else around here will ever see me again." Soarin reached for the bottle again, but Apple Bloom pulled it away.

"Where are you going?" She inquired, a hint of desperation in her tone. "Why do you want to leave?"

"Don't worry about it." Once again, Soarin reached out for his bottle, and once again, Apple Bloom struck him.

"Stop hitting me!"

"Mister Soarin, please tell me what's goin' on with you."

"Oh, so now you're back to calling me 'mister' after flogging me with a bottle?"

The filly sighed as she set the vessel down on the table. "Go ahead and take it, alright? But Ah just want to help you. Can we at least compromise? You got your beer, now you tell me what's going on. Help me help you."

Without giving it another thought, Soarin swiped the bottle and wrenched the cap off. Just as he had brought the neck up to his lips, he looked down at those pitiful amber eyes. His conscience got the better of him. That little girl's eyes were like siege weapons designed to batter down the walls of any and all resistance. He set the bottle down. "I'll give you the short version, kid," he began with a reluctant sigh. "It's pretty much like this: I was looking forward to working here, to having a new start. I thought my life was going to begin all anew. But no. My problems from my past life just keep piling up on me. And as for why I'm leaving - your sister fired me."

The filly's face flared with disbelief. "No way!"

"Way."

"Why? You must have done somethin' real bad."

"Yeah, I'm thinking that thing I must have done that was 'real bad' must have happened last night. I know this, because I just happened to stumble upon a conversation AJ was having with Braeurn when I got back from taking you to school."

Apple Bloom cocked her head to the side, beaming at the stallion with a suspicious sideways glance. "What kinda things did they say?"

"Said a rich city boy like me doesn't belong here. Said something about how I'm always accosting her, undressing her with my eyes, looking at her like she's a piece of salt lick. Breaburn even offered to ruff me up and chase me off the property for her, but she said she'd rather handle it herself. I walked in on the middle of this little conversation they were having, and then, they were suddenly nothing but smiles and honey, like they were both so glad to see me... Makes me sick!" Soarin spat. "Two faced backbiters!"

"Hey, now you stop that! You talk about mah sister or mah cousin like that one more time, and Ah'll knock ya stupider than ya already are, hear?"

"It's so cute how you blindly defend them," Soarin remarked, his lip curling in a sarcastic sneer.

"Ah will defend them! Ah'll defend them 'til the bitter end! And Ah'm tellin' you straight up that they wouldn't do that. Both Brae and AJ are the types who will let you know to your face if they have an issue with you!"

"So, you're calling me a liar?"

"Ah ain't callin' you a liar, Soarin! Maybe you didn't hear em right?" Apple Bloom scratched her chin pensively. "Either that, or they were talkin' about that other rich city boy who's been skulking around here... Ah saw him following mah sister around with his head all full of puppy dog eyes - it was when Ah was lookin' around for you earlier; Applejack did not seem to like that boy one bit."

"Other rich city boy?" Soarin quarried, his intoxicated mind working slowly to fit the pieces of the puzzle. "There's another 'rich city boy' around here?"

"Yeah," the little Apple nodded. "He's some sort of famous, hotshot traveling journalist. Miss Rarity's been goin' on and on about him for weeks now. Ah doubt she's happy about her crush wanting to spend all his time with AJ. And all AJ wants is to be left alone by both of em." The filly smirked. "Makes for juicy gossip, huh?"

Sections of the conversation between Applejack and Braeburn came to memory with the filly's information:_"Rarity's been runnin' me ragged, too, as if it was mah fault that preppy little city boy's been drooling over me. She won't leave me alone! If you want em, you can have em - Ah sure as shoot don't want him! Ah don't want him on the farm, and Ah damn sure don't want him around me!"_

Soarin turned pale as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit in place, slowly coming into completion of his self-portrait as an incorrigible jackass. "This other rich city boy you're speaking of... What's his name?"

"Slenderhoof, or somethin' like that," Apple Bloom shrugged.

"You mean Trenderhoof?"

"Yeah, that's it. Sweet guy, but the way he was staring at mah sister was a bit creepy. He was lookin' at her like she was..." The filly's eyes glanced upward as she thought of an appropriate analogy.

"A piece of salt lick." Soarin facehoofed and collapsed back into his seat. "Pony feathering Luna on a bucking cracker!"

The filly jumped, startled by the obscene outburst. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I'm an idiot!"

"Hey, yer not an idiot! Okay, you was a bit quick to jump to conclusions, but that don't make you—"

"I called AJ a two-faced, back biting liar." Soarin hung his head and covered his face, shamed by his own actions. "And then, I compared her declarations of honesty to that of a whore preaching virtue..."

Apple Bloom's mouth formed an O, her eyes aghast. "Mister Soarin!"

Soarin grimaced woefully at the basket on the table. "She actually was being kind to me, wasn't she? This morning - Applejack said she wanted to talk me about something over dinner. She vaguely mentioned something about the Ponyville day celebration. If she wasn't planning to fire me, what then was she wanting to talk to me about?" Soarin turned and eyed the hat that he had knocked out of Applejack's hoof. She referred to it as **his** hat before asking him if he remembered... Remembered what exactly? The flummoxed stallion was becoming more confused by the second. Mystery after mystery continued to bombard him until his eye caught that glowing vial of purple fluid on the table. "What the hell happened last night?" He thought out loud.

"Only one way to find out, Ah guess," Apple Bloom replied before collecting the potion with a defiant look on her face. "But Ah ain't letting you have this potion now. Not until you promise to apologize to mah sister!"

"Would you forgive me if you were her?"

"It's hard to say. Those are some rotten things you said. Ah can't believe you'd just blindside her like that!"

Chagrined, Soarin hung his head. "I'll tell her I'm sorry. I don't know if she'll accept my apology, but I'll tell her."

"Good boy," the filly said, and offered the potion with an extended hoof.

Soarin stared at it indecisively. Did it even matter if he remembered? His life at this farm was over. What was the point?

Apple Bloom impatiently shook the glass vial around, swashing the fluid inside. "Do you want it, or not?"

The stallion's eyes narrowed in determination. He decided then that had to find out what happened. The mystery would haunt him for the rest of his life if he didn't. He accepted the vial and uncorked it with a pop. The fluid tasted so awful, It took several attempts to swallow it down. The retched flavor was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"You don't find the taste to your liking?" Asked Apple Bloom.

"I was kinda hoping it would taste like grape," groused Soarin, scrunching his face as the foul aftertaste continued the assault on his senses.

"Yeah, potions never taste good."

Soarin waited for something to happen. Was he just going to suddenly remember everything? He wasn't exactly privy to the ways of magic or science, so he didn't know what to expect. After only a brief interval, a debilitating pain took him. The stallion doubled over on the table and panted. It felt like someone was reaching inside of his skull and molding his brain like wet clay. That's when all of his memories began to return. Soarin held his head with his hooves, as if to keep it from splitting apart. One after the other, events from the night before flowed into his mind, diminishing his amnesia. His vision blackened when the memory in its entirety returned to him - just as vividly as if he had experienced it stone cold sober.

* * *

><p>Applejack sat back on her haunches only inches away from Soarin. Her face was so close to his that he could smell her breath. It was warm, and had a sweetness to it, like a festive mug of hot autumn cider.<p>

"Sugarcube," she purred with a seductive grin, her tone like honey dripping from her lips. "You. Promised. Me. A. Dance."

Soarin found himself straining to see through the drunken haze that was his vision. "You..." He paused briefly as he hiccuped. "You... Why'd you come here? Yer not... At the party, how come not?"

The mare leaned back and held her nose. It never ceased to amaze Soarin how his breath, when inebriated, could bring any romantic moment to a screeching halt. "Had a few drinks, Ah reckon?" She inquired.

Soarin covered his face like a bashful child and nodded with a smile of drunken idiocy.

Applejack's smile quickly dimmed into a disappointed frown. "Oh... So, Ah guess the dance is off, then?"

"Hey, I still got moves for days!" Soarin attempted a demonstration. Not even he knew what move from his repertoire he was trying to demonstrate, but he tried his damnedest to demonstrate it - which resulted in him falling face first on the ground. "How come you trip me?" He hiccuped.

"Sugarcube, Ah didn't trip you. And you should probably get to bed." Applejack turned him over and lifted his head up with a hoof. "You gonna be okay?" she asked concernedly. "You don't look so well. What exactly did you drink?"

"The whishky in the bottle. Not taste so good, but hey, 'least it doesn't taste good."

"The whisky in the bottle?" Applejack turned her head and eyed Breaburn's bottle laying empty next to the wine container. "Sugar, that ain't whisky. That was moonshine!"

Soarin let out a belch. "I thought it tashted a bit shiny."

"You drank the whole dang bottle?" The farmer's voice became frantic. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

"I didn't drink the whole bottle, I only had one glass. Rest of it's in the bucket with the wine," Soarin explained.

Applejack's face relaxed as a sigh of relief escaped her. "Oh, well good. Still though, moonshine's strong stuff. You should be more careful with your health."

"Ah, nopony cares 'bout my health. Not even me," Soarin chuckled.

The farmer stared at him, not sure what to make of his statement. "Hey, why do you think that? Ah'm sure you got family out there that cares about you."

Soarin snorted, restraining another laugh. "Wonderbolts were the closest thing to family I ever had. Ain't got no family now, sweet heart. So it's okay if I die."

"Hey, now don't go sayin' things like that! Is that why you got so drunk? Is it 'cause what that Spitfire lady said upset you?"

"She was simply stating the truth. I have no family. Families are... Well, I don't really know. Never had a real one. But they seem like they would be annoying to have. Always wanting to know where you are, how you're doing, caring about wheter you're alive or dead. All seems rather bothersome, if you'd ask me."

Applejack looked on him with sympathy. The way he was so blatantly trying to mask his pain was heartbreaking. "Hey, you know, if you're gonna be livin' here, yer just as good as family, so don't go around thinking you don't have anyone who cares for you." Her sad expression brightened into a smile as an idea came to her. Applejack gently laid the stallion's head down and turned to approach the scarecrow in the corner. After retrieving its hat she returned to the indisposed Soarin, lifted him up again, and set the hat on his head. "There," she smiled. "If you're gonna be an Apple, you might as well look the part."

"Why would you want me in your family?" Soarin groaned. "I'm kind of a screw up. I do nothin' but let everyone down. And I'm a screw up. Did I mention that? Also, I'm a screw up."

"A screw up?" AJ chuckled. "You was a lot of things when you made that fancy entrance on that stage, and a screw up wasn't one of em. You were wild, dangerous, exciting and fearless. The way you did all that just for Rainbow Dash's birthday party... It was so amazingly sweet of you! And Ah can't get over how cool you looked when you flew out of that explosion like a bat out of hell! Sugar, you were like a beast on wings! You - you were just amazing! You are the last pony Ah would call a screw up. " The mare's eyes were wild and exuberant as she recalled the aerial stunt. She almost looked like she was out of breath just from describing it.

Soarin tipped the brim of his hat upward and slurred, "I'm glad you liked the trick. Is that why you wanted to dance with me?"

"Well..." The mare's emerald eyes darted away to avoid the awkward eye contact. "Ah just wanted to get to ya before some other mare could snatch you away. You **did** promise me a dance after all..."

"I don't recall **promising** you a dance," Soarin mumbled drunkenly. "It was payment for the flight suit, wasn't it?"

"Hey, a deal is the same as a promise, so basically, you **did** in fact promise me that dance. What, you don't wanna dance with me no more?"

"I didn't say that!" Soarin said defensively. "I was the one that wanted the dance in the first place, 'member?"

Applejack's mouth twitched with an amused smirk. "Out of anything you could have asked for - why exactly did you want a dance with me?"

"I dunno," Soarin smirked coyly. "Probably because a dance would be the perfect excuse to have my arms around you. You know, I was gonna quit this job after the first day, but then I saw you - lookin' all hot and stuff. Made me want to stay. Wanted to be around your hotness some more..." Soarin hiccuped again. "Did I mention that you're incredibly beautiful? And your voice is like audible sunshine..? And you're hot."

A look of embarrassment and surprise spread across the mare's face, which was practically incandescent upon hearing the stallion's declaration. "Oh," she said. "Th-thanks. Ah'm real glad y'all decided to stay."

Soarin sighed. "It's a shame I won't get that dance."

"You know, the Ponyville day celebration is coming up in a few days," Applejack stated nervously. She hesitated before speaking again. "I-If you want to dance with me so bad, maybe you can be mah date for..." Her words trailed off when a sharp breath of air escaped through Soarin's lips. His head sagged back, and his hat fell from his head.

"Sugarcube, you okay?"

The incapacitated stallion's voice came in a weak whisper. "Just... Tired..."

"You know what? We'll talk about this tomorrow. You need some rest. Let me get yer blanket for ya."

Darkness engulfed Soarin's vision as he felt a warm hoof gently caress his face. He could feel a pair of lips brushing his ear. The sweet trill of her voice was just as gentle as any lullaby, like a mellifluous note that ferried him to his dreams.

"Sweet dreams, cowboy."

* * *

><p>Soarin's eyes fluttered open as he came to. He lifted his head off the table and groaned.<p>

"Are ya alright?" Apple Bloom asked, standing in the exact same place she had been when Soarin blacked out.

"Yeah. How long was I out?"

"Out? Yer eyes were only closed for a couple seconds."

"Oh." Soarin looked around the barn and noticed that hat he had disregarded with such disdain.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Soarin began to answer her, but his thoughts escaped him as he got up to retrieve his hat. He brought it back the table with him and just stared at it, his eyes moist with sorrow and regret. "I can't believe I said all those things to her. She was so kind to me. She even went as far as to tell me I was family. I don't understand how she could just accept me like that. I'm a stranger here. I'm not even an earth pony. The only thing I've managed to do thus far is return her kindness with suspicion and scorn."

Apple Bloom looked curiously at the hat and offered, "You don't have to be flesh and blood to be family."

Soarin rotated the hat and caressed the edge of the brim with his hoof. "Then, what is family?"

"Well, Granny always told me that family is both the most precious thing you could have, and the worst thing to lose."

The thoughtful Pegasus placed the hat on his head and adjusted it. He was surprised by how well it fit. "But what if it's something you never had in the first place?"

The filly shrugged. "It's something you could always gain, Ah guess. A relative is someone you're merely related to, but family can be anyone who's willing to love you unconditionally - and support you even during the worst of times."

Soarin sighed, removed the hat from his head, and looked at it as if it were a precious treasure. "Kid, there would have been a time when I would have heard those words and disregarded them as a load of mawkish, cloying nonsense. You know, the kind of sugary shit that gets printed on a cheap greeting cards? But I think I'm starting to understand. Family." He set the hat back on his head and, with his lantern in hoof, he strode to an old antique mirror that was propped up against a wall. He wiped away the surface of dust with a few strokes of his leg and examined the stallion in the mirror.

The hat was worn and beaten, shabby, torn, and faded. Strangely enough, Soarin liked it. Its blemishes gave it character. He had cast it aside without so much as giving it second glance, even abused it on a few occasions, and yet, it fit him perfectly, as if it had been made just for him.

Apple Bloom eyed him inquisitively. "Is that the scarecrow's hat?"

"Nope," Soarin smiled at the rugged appearance his hat gave him. "It's mine."

"Huh," the redhead mused, "It actually looks kinda good on ya. Gives ya a bit of a roguish appeal."

"You think so?" Soarin gazed once more into his reflection and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Roguish," he said to himself. "I like it. This hat and I understand each other, I think. It speaks for me just as well as I can speak for it. It's not only an accessory, but my own personal metaphor." He removed the hat and balanced the brim on his hoof. "And it's a precious token, given to me by none other than..." Soarin found himself struggling just to get her name past the solid lump in his throat. "Applejack..." A cramp gnawed at his belly as he said her name. He could feel a feverish desire consuming him. Soarin set the hat back on his head, the mirror in front of him informing him of how red his face was becoming.

"Why did Applejack give you that dirty old hat?" Apple Bloom asked.

"It's a long story," offered Soarin. "I need to see her. I need to apologize. I can't believe how stupid I've been this whole time! I've done nothing but complain, and whine, and mope around." He turned and approached the door, clad in his new accessory, armed with new-found confidence. "My life isn't going to improve simply because I wish it to. It's about time I stop acting like a victim and grow a freaking pair already!"

"Hey, don't leave me in this creepy place all alone!" Apple Bloom exclaimed before hopping down from the table and following the stallion outside. Once she had caught up to him, walking at a brisk pace, she asked, "what are you gonna say to her?"

"I'm going to tell her I'm sorry, and then I'm going to prostrate myself before her and grovel for the honor of being her escort for the Ponyville day celebration."

"What? You? Date mah sister?"

"You say that like there's something wrong with it."

"It's not wrong, it's just weird. Yer a Wonderbolt. Yer supposed to date celebrities and super models and what not."

"I'm not a Wonderbolt. I'm a farmer. I'm a ranch hand. I'm no longer the pitiful, self-deprecating excuse for a stallion I was only moments ago. As far as I'm concerned, that Soarin is dead. I killed him!"

"You mind filling me in on why you've decided to make such a dramatic change?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Does it have something to do with last night?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Stop saying that!"

"Stop asking then."

When the two arrived before the house, Soarin gestured to the second story windows and asked, "so, which one is your sister's?"

"It'd be the one on the right if yer facing it from the the barn. Mah brother's room is the next one over."

"Thanks, kid." Soarin unfurled his wings and hovered over the ground. "You should head on inside. You have school tomorrow."

"No way," the filly rebelled. "Ah gotta see what happens. Ah wanna see how this 'new an' improved' Soarin handles himself in a situation like this."

"You'll find out tomorrow."

"And how will Ah do that?"

"Whether I'm here or not should be a good indication of what transpired."

"But Ah wanna see!"

"No, this is going to be awkward enough without feeling your eyes on me. Can't you just do this as a favor for me? Please?"

"Oh, alright," the filly sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Just one more thing," Soarin said with a smile. "You've done more for me than you could possibly know. Thanks for the potion. That's quite an aptitude you have there. I know it's a little early to be thinking of this, but, If you ever seek to broaden your horizons and further your education in your craft - say - college?"

At this, the filly's ears twitched. She gawked at the stallion as if she wasn't sure she heard him correctly. "College? Me?"

"And why not? You're a brilliant young mind. It's the least I can do to repay you. Consider all your expenses paid: housing, books, tuition, the whole package. Whatever school you wish to attend."

Apple Bloom's eyes brightened with excitement. "E-even The Starswirl Academy in Trodingham?"

Soarin laughed. "You got some years ahead of you to plan for which school you'd like to attend. But sure, if you'd like to go abroad, I'll make it happen."

"You're actually going to do this for me?" The filly asked incredulously. "How?"

"Wonderbolt," was Soarin's vague answer.

"But you ain't a Wonderbolt no more! How are you gonna afford—"

"Kid, don't worry about it. Just trust me."

"But what if you end up leaving?"

"I said don't worry about it. Now, run along." Soarin pivoted in the air and faced Applejack's window, but before he could approach, he felt himself taking on the filly's additional weight when she leaped and threw her arms around him.

"Ah can't believe this!" The ecstatic filly exclaimed. "Ah'm gonna be the first in mah family to attend college!"

Soarin winced at the filly's vociferous display of gratitude. "Kid, be quite! AJ will hear you, and I haven't even thought of what I'm going to say to—" he froze when he heard the clatter of Applejack's bedroom window flying open.

"What the hay'r y'all doin' outside mah window at this time o' night!"

"Crap..." Soarin looked up to see Applejack's disapproving gaze cast down upon him.

"Apple Bloom, you best get inside! It's way passed yer curfew, young lady!" The irate mare then pointed a hoof at Soarin. "And you!" She barked. "Ah thought Ah told you to scram, you barb-tongued, snake-eyed, cold-hearted cretinous varmint!"

Soarin flinched at the farmer's harsh words, but he knew full well he deserved them and more. He became lighter when Apple Bloom released him and fled toward the door. "Good luck, mister Soarin!" she tossed over her shoulder before entering the house.

Applejack was about to slam her window closed, but Soarin sped toward her and managed to hook a leg under the frame. "Applejack, I need to talk to y—"

"No! Ah tried talkin' to you, and we all now how well that worked!" The furious mare tried to force the window down, but Soarin held it open. It took all of his power to do so. He couldn't help but marvel at the brawn of this mare, who was merely half his size.

"Please!" He grunted through his clenched teeth. "Just listen to me. Five seconds. that's all. If you could grant me just this one boon!" His arms shook violently against the window frame. Every second was taxing to him, and he felt like his strength could fail him at any second.

The mare finally let the window go and huffed, her face red from the exertion. Soarin couldn't be sure if she was granting him the time he was pleading for, or if she had simply given up on trying to over power him. "Five seconds," she managed through her labored breathing. "That's all you get."

Even with her face red, her eyes burning with fury, she was beautiful. Soarin gazed at her, catching his breath. He really wished he had more time to rehearse what he was going to say to her. His new found affection for her burned with an overwhelming force, leaving him bereft of words. Just looking into those furious emeralds kindled his passion in a way that no mare ever could.

"What is it already!" She barked impatiently.

"I... I..." Soarin trembled. He couldn't speak. Where was all that confidence he had a while ago? "Applejack... I'm — I can't even begin to — I'm so — it was a misunderstanding. I — please. I'm sorry. Those things I sad. I didn't mean them. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Sorry 'bout what, exactly?" Applejack asked. "The part about throwing mah kindness back in mah face? Callin' me a liar? Or the part when you called me a whore?" There was a weakness in her eyes then - a chink in the armor of rage she set up about herself that allowed a single tear drop through. That was the part that hurt Soarin the most. It made the stallion panic. Just making her angry wasn't enough, but he had to make her cry, too?

"I never called you a whore!" He insisted. "I just - kinda - compared you to one..." He bit down on his lip, regretting the statement.

The mare's expression heated with renewed outrage. "So what? You thought you'd just come here, wearing that hat, thinking you was gonna charm me into forgetting those things you said? Yer five seconds are up, cowboy!" She scowled fiercely as she slammed the window and drew the curtains.

Not knowing what else to do, the desperate stallion placed his hooves on the window and rested his forehead against the glass, which pushed the brim of his hat down and concealed his eyes. "Applejack, please. Tell me what I need to do. I'll do anything to make you forgive me." The solid lump forming in his throat was making it harder for him to speak without sobbing. He resisted the urge to bang on the window until she opened it again. That would only infuriate her further.

After a few minutes had passed, he finally sighed and descended to the ground below, twisting around and landing with his back against the wall. He sat with his head down, his hat obscuring his face as he considered his options. He couldn't just give up. This was the one thing he refused to let defeat him. The old him would have been in hotel room by now, drinking and sulking himself to sleep. But not this time. There had to be a way through this.

Soarin pulled his tears back, and he relaxed so he could brainstorm more effectively.

_perhaps,_ he thought, _I could buy her a diamond. A big, red diamond, as large as an apple... No, a giant ruby cut in the shape of an apple, with an emerald leaf attached to a platinum stem._ Soarin liked the idea at first, but he dismissed it after he had considered the kind of girl Applejack was. She didn't seem to value shiny, overpriced trifles in the way that the shallow mares he had dated would. Applejack valued practical things like tools and equipment, but he couldn't just buy her a shovel or a wrench. That would be weird.

He removed his hat and ran a hoof through his shaggy mane. _Think, think, think. What does Applejack value above all else? What would she appreciate more than anything?_ Soarin sighed and lifted his head. He gazed out at the orchards - that seemingly endless ocean of apples. A smile crept along his face as the answer came to him. _She values hard work above anything else!_ He sprang to his hooves with a determined grin. Applejack's forgiveness was something that he would not purchased through useless pretties, or cheap words, but with the sweat of his brow. If he could harvest enough apples - a lot of apples - a ridiculous amount of apples - maybe, just maybe she'll forgive him...

* * *

><p>Soarin thought of how he would go about his mission as he devoured the food from the basket. He knew that if he was going to do this kind of work, he needed needed his strength, and he was starving. The ravenous stallion consumed both portions that Applejack had brought him. He didn't even bother with cutting wedges out of the pie. He simply removed it from the pan and devoured it whole. Everything save for the soup from the thermos had turned cold. He would have preferred to eat everything while it was still fresh, but he was weak from hunger, and beggars couldn't be choosers. Soarin wiped his mouth and flushed it all down with his last beer.<p>

With one final gulp, he set the bottle down, then stared into his lantern, pondering over how he would accomplish his job. He could try to buck the apples, but he was likely to injure himself. His fragile Pegasus bones and lack of kicking strength that the Apples had honed through years of farm labor was definitely an issue. "There has to be another way," he mused. "Simply picking the apples individually will take forever." He stroked his chin and hummed to himself. Brute physical strength was simply not his specialty. He was a Pegasus, an ex-Wonderbolt; speed and precision was what he was good at. How could he utilize that?

His eyes scanned the wall until they caught a glimpse of the the scythe's blade in the lantern light. It gave him an idea; a strange idea, but an idea none the less.

He got up and approached the bladed implement, Inspecting it curiously as it hung from its nail. He took it from the wall and weighed it in his arms before gripping the shaft firmly, giving it an experimental swing. It swished through the air, flashing in the moonlight that peaked through the large hole overhead. "Speed and precision," he smiled as he caressed the flat side of the blade with an approving nod. The idea he had was unorthodox, but it would have to do.

With his hat on his head, the handle of the lantern in his mouth, and his scythe in his arms, Soarin sped toward the orchards, eager to apply his new idea into practice. The scythe-wielding stallion landed at the outer age of the orchard's boarder and searched around.

He picked a random tree, as any would do, and he placed the lantern at its base so that he could see what he was doing. With scythe in hoof, Soarin swung at a particularly low-hanging apple and liberated it from its stem. Careful not to butcher the tree, he swung again, and again, until he was able to cut down several apples with only one swing.

He took his lantern and moved on to the next tree. He couldn't help but nick a branch here or there, or slice a few apples in twain, but they were acceptable losses. Besides, they'd grow back. With every reaping sweep, Soarin's precision with the blade improved. By the time the second hour was rolling around, it was as if the scythe was but an extension of his body. He poured all of his strength and focus into his labor, thinking of nothing else. By the time the third hour came, Soarin handled himself with the grace, speed and proficiency of a furious tornado of flashing blades. With only three or four revolutions, he'd stop and watch with a satisfied grin as every piece of fruit dropped and hit the ground. He laughed. This was actually kinda fun. He moved on to the next tree, then the one after that, then the one after that, until he finally realized that he had been forgetting to collect the fruit he had cut down.

This was the part he didn't particularly care for. Soarin had to locate the wagon, hitch it, then painstakingly pull it into the orchards. Collecting the apples off the ground and filling the barrels in the heavy cart was tedious, but it had to be done. Lifting the barrels onto his back and hauling them down into the apple cellar one-by-one was the hardest part of the job. The exhausted stallion was soaked in sweat by the time he had stored the final barrel, but he refused to take a break. If he were to lay down as exhausted as he was, he wouldn't want to get back up, so he trudged on. He filled the cart with the empty barrels near the entrance to the cellar and put his scythe to use once more.

About two carts amounted to a full day's work, but after he had stored the barrels from his second load, he decided that wasn't enough. He needed to work until he couldn't work anymore. Thoughts of Applejack and his desperation to prove himself to her fueled him through the night, pushing himself beyond the physical limits of his weaker former self. Even when he took a nasty tumble down the stairs when he lost his balance, he refused the urge to lay there and rest his eyes. Soarin forced himself up to his hooves and persisted with his task.

* * *

><p>The rooster in the distance finally crowed, it's shrill cry bringing with it the early light of the new day.<p>

Soarin's blood shot eyes snapped open. He had fallen asleep some how. How long he had been resting, he couldn't be sure. He panicked. "Oh, no... No, no, no, no, no!" Any minute now, Applejack would come out and discover that he hadn't left. He doubted that he had harvested enough apples to appease her. His legs trembled violently as he was just barely able to muster enough strength to lift his weight. His head pounding, his vision blurry, and his flesh so hot, the vapor from his sweat released tendrils of blurred air, he retrieved his scythe in a desperate attempt to make up for the time he had lost sleeping. Soarin tried to fly, but his wings wouldn't lift him. They were too sore. He tried to swing the scythe out as far as he could without the need of his wings, but he only succeeded in missing his target and lopping off a branch. He grunted in frustration as he tried again, but he missed the tree entirely, and the shaft slipped from his grip, sending the blade flying into a different tree. Soarin tried to free the blade from the trunk, but he simply lacked the strength. The exhausted stallion panted and huffed as he desperately threw his body weight backwards in a vain attempt to free the embedded blade, but it was too late. He heard Applejack's voice approaching.

"You!" Applejack exclaimed. "Did you do all of this!"

"All of... What?" Soarin panted, his spent mind too exhausted to form a coherent sentence. He squinted at her through his blurry vision.

The mare stopped when she was finally close enough for him to see. "What did you do? Have you been out here all night?"

Big Mac's voice could be heard from somewhere, but Soarin couldn't see him. "Sis, Ah did a quick run around."

Applejack turned to face him. "What did ya find?"

"Every tree for about eight acres is completely bare."

"Eight acres!" Applejack's head whipped around. She gawked at Soarin, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Cousin," Braeburn called out, but again, Soarin was unable to see anything that wasn't right in front of him. "Ah took inventory of the cellar for ya. Every barrel and crate down there is completely full! Greenhorn, did you have somethin' to do with this?"

Both stallions came into view, eyeing Soarin incredulously along with Applejack.

Soarin's labor-induced fever cooked his brain, making him delirious. He didn't know where he was anymore. He looked all around, but he could not obtain his bearings. He began to mutter unintelligibly.

Applejack approached, her expression impassive. "Are you okay?"

Soarin babbled once more in response before the ground came rushing up to meet him.


	7. Cowboy

The whirring of a ceiling fan ushered Soarin into consciousness, its cool and steady breeze tugging gently at his mane with the tenderness of a light autumn wind. He could feel the warmth of soft fabric over his body and a pillow under his head. His chest raised when he drew in a breath through his nostrils and released it with a deep hum from his throat.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw her, and his heart threatened to cease beating. Applejack was sitting in a stool, slumped, her head pillowed at the edge of the bed. Her eyelashes would flutter every few seconds and she would let out a soft hum, as if the slightest jostle could rouse her. Soarin was now awake, all the events of last night suddenly flooding his mind...

Where was he?

The sky beyond the window adjacent to the bed was darkening - or so Soarin thought at first. He could hear birds chirping, a rooster crowing, and the impatient chorus of the livestock awaiting their breakfast. The sun wasn't going down, Soarin realized. It was rising. He must have been in the Apple family house. It only took a cursory glance of the blonde hairs tangled in the brush on the desk and vanity mirror across the room to figure out exactly where he was.

His eyes once again found Applejack, sleeping, sides expanding slowly with her soft, soundless snores. He lifted his arm over his quilt and reached out to her, but quickly drew it back.

What was she going to say to him once she was awake? He was in her bed. Applejack gave him her bed to sleep in instead of hauling him off the property in a wagon and dumping him in the nearest gutter. She couldn't be too angry... Could she? Soarin didn't know what to do. The slightest stir might wake her.

The perturbed Pegasus turned his head and noticed his and Applejack's hats on the bedside stand, his piled neatly atop hers, the crown of the bottom hat fitted snugly inside the one on the top. _She even brought my hat in along with me,_ he realized, relieved. Applejack was the only one beside him that knew of its significance. Its intimate meaning. There was no way she could still be angry with him if she still wanted him to have it.

Slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping mare at the edge of the bed, he reached out and pulled the connecting hats away from one another. His sore muscles were not making the task any easier. The stiffness in his body conveyed to him that he must have been sleeping for quite some time, at least twenty four hours, he surmised.

Laying Applejack's hat back on the stand, he took his, then held it above his head to examine it. Other than the knicks and tears, it seemed clean. AJ must have brushed and dusted it for him. It's color looked slightly healthier, and it's brim, now devoid of grime that roughed the material like sandpaper - felt smooth to the touch like brown velvet.

Soarin gazed at it appreciatively. It was almost funny to him. He was accustomed to riches: lavish hotel suites and penthouses with views of city skylines that bathed in the beautiful golds and reds of the sunset. The finest imported wines, so expensive and rare that a single barrel could easily break the treasury of any of those fops that mingled in the private boxes at the Wonderbolts shows. But this... This torn, worn, faded, moldy old hat was worth more to him than anything. It felt like he could draw strength just by looking at it, and he did. With a sigh, he set the hat aside. It was time to wake her, and let come whatever may.

He propped his hooves under him and sat up. Every joint in his body popped and groaned like rickety old lumber. If his barn could feel, it probably felt this way. It sure sounded similar enough. Soarin rolled his shoulders and stretched his back before reaching for her again. Just a gentle touch should do it.

He paused, took one more moment to appreciate the image of the sleeping beauty that she was, then gently brushed a strand of loose hair out of her face. Just as he had expected, that was enough to wake her.

Green eyes glittered and flickered like translucent emeralds held before candle light as their lids fluttered. Slowly she propped herself up, staring at him blankly. "You."

Soarin blinked. "Me?"

Applejack rubbed the sleep from her eyes before reaching for him and placing a hoof on his chest. "A-are you okay? How do ya feel?" she inquired with a vague trace of lingering somnolence in her tone.

Soarin looked down at her hoof on his chest, not knowing what to say. "I'm, uh..." He stammered before looking up. His eyes found hers. They both stared at each other blankly, both waiting for the other to say something. The bout of silence went on until they both tried to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry ab—"

They went mute again, not wanting to speak over each other. Applejack acted quick to break the silence before Soarin could.

"Let me go first."

Soarin nodded submissively. "Uh, please," he responded, unsure if it was a demand or a request. He figured it was the latter, but it didn't matter to him either way.

Applejack sighed and sat back in her stool. She placed both hooves on the side of the bed and looked down, grimacing. "About the other night."

"Yes?" Soarin said, eager for her to continue.

"Ah'm sorry. Ah should have—"

"Why are **you** sorry?" Soarin interjected. "It was all my fau—"

"Sugarcube," Applejack cut him off, using a mildly insistent tone as her eyes flashed to his. "let me finish. Please."

Soarin looked at her acquiescently. He didn't want her to apologize. She didn't need to. This was all his fault. He wanted to tell her so. But he reluctantly honored her request and remained silent.

"As Ah was saying," she continued, "Ah'm sorry Ah didn't forgive you when you came to me last night. Ah should have. Just lookin' at the seriousness in yer eyes, Ah could tell how sincere you were. But Ah just... Ah wanted to stay mad at you."

"You... **Wanted** to stay mad?"

Applejack hung her head, her eyes glazed with shame. "Ah got a stubborn streak in me a mile wide, and a temper to match. It's come around to bite me more times than Ah care to mention."

Soarin was more or less bemused by this revelation. She was stubborn and hot headed. So what? That still didn't excuse him for the way he acted, those horrible things he said to her. She was acting like this was all her fault.

"Soarin," she said, soft as a whisper, "Ah know some things about you now. Things Ah didn't know before."

"What do you mean?" Soarin asked anxiously. "What kind of things?"

"Ah know about your mistreatment when you were in the Wonderbolts. The degradation you've had to put up with, all those times you were conspired against. Ah even know about your so-called 'best friend' abandoning you."

Sourin's mouth hung agape. "You... Wha... I never told anyone— H-how did—"

"A Wonderbolt friend of yours told me," came Applejack's preemptive answer. "While you was asleep, one of yer Wonderbolt friends came around - she was out of uniform. Said she was lookin' for you. Ah told her you was indisposed at the moment. So... We just started talkin' about you. That's when Ah learned about yer, uh... Baggage."

Soarin scooted backwards until his back was rested against the head board of the bed. He looked ponderously at the quilt over his legs. "One of the Wonderbolts came all the way down here - to Sweet Apple Acres? Who was it?"

Applejack thought for a moment. "Ah don't think she gave me her name, but she was at Rainbow Falls with you and Spitfire. To say that she liked to use colorful language was a bit of an understatement."

Soarin cocked his head to the side, utterly and completely incredulous. "Fleetfoot? Fleetfoot came down here — to see me? But the Wonderbolts are banned from contact with me. Spitfire pretty much told me herself."

"Yeah, she mentioned that, too. Ah asked her if she was concerned about her captain finding out about her insubordination, and she informed me - using very colorful language, ah might add - that she didn't particularly care. She said something along the lines of, 'Spitfire can go get between two stallions and... Well... She used the word 'rotisserie' in an innuendo for sex with multiple partners..."

Soarin rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowed in deep thought. "That's Fleetfoot, alright," he concluded to himself. "But why would she come down here?"

Applejack's eyes narrowed into a disgusted grimace. "She wanted to talk to you about that newspaper. Ah'm pretty sure you know what Ah'm talkin' about. She told me all about it, and she wanted to set some things straight with you."

"Not a single word printed on that rag is true!" Soarin blurted hotly.

"Soarin," Applejack sighed placatingly, "Ah know. Ah was there. At Rainbow Falls. Ah saw how the whole thing went down, don't you remember?"

"Yeah." Soarin scowled bitterly down at his quilt, tracing his eyes along the patchwork to distract himself. "I remember, alright. I also remember why I quit."

"Ah'd like to hear about why ya quit," Soarin heard Applejack say. "Ah mean, Ah got a basic understanding of why you left. You weren't treated right, Ah understand that now. But how did it get to be that way? If that's not a pleasant topic for you, why don't you tell me about any good times ya may have had while you was a Wonderbolt? Got any funny or embarrassing secrets you'd like to tell me? Ah won't tell nopony, Ah promise."

Soarin glanced up at her, weighing the sincerity in her eyes. She was smiling at him. It was obvious what she was trying to do. She was trying to lighten the mood. Just mentioning that slanderous piece written by bloodsuckers that call themselves journalists made his ire far too conspicuous. She was only trying to help, but still... She wanted him to talk about himself... His least favorite topic. He broke the eye contact. "What's with all these questions all of the sudden?" he said, trying not to sound rude about it. "Why do you want to know these things?"

"Because, Ah want to know about you. Is that such a crime?"

"It'll only bore you."

"No, it won't!"

"AJ, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but just drop it, okay?"

...

The sullen stallion suddenly jumped when Applejack slammed a strong hoof down on the end table near the bed. He jolted and locked eyes with her.

"Look. Ah want to know more about you! It's time you opened up to somepony for a change. Breaburn already told me that getting you to talk is harder than dodging rain in a lightening storm! You wouldn't even be in the situation right now if you had just confronted me instead of just walking around moping over your preconceived notions that everyone's just out to get you!"

"I... Wait, what?"

"That Wonderbolt friend of yours ain't the only pony Ah talked to while you were sleeping. Ah had a little chat with Apple Bloom as well. Ah was curious about what you meant last night when you said everything was a misunderstanding." The intensity of applejack's eyes, pools of blazing green, furious and passionate, held Soarin's gaze in rapt attention. It was a look that was both beautiful and terrifying.

Soarin was spellbound, yet the words that flew out of his mouth projected by his habitual insecurity spoke for him before he even had a chance to think them over. "I... Why are you pretending like you care!" He bit his lip the moment the words had tumbled out. She cared about him. He knew she did. He woke up, and she was there. She was by his side, practically begging for him to open up to her, and yet, he was treating her with suspicion. Soarin tensed up, ready for her to lay into him again, but she didn't. The ferocious edge in her eyes just dulled into something resembling sympathy. She drew a breath and her expression softened into a forgiving smile.

Her hoof came toward Soarin's face. He closed his eyes, ready to accept the blow in penance for his stubborn belligerence.

A gentle caress tracing from his head and down to his jaw was what he felt. Soarin opened his eyes. She held his face gently with a hoof, smiling sweetly. "Ah'm **acting** like Ah care," she said softly, "because Ah **do** care. If you open up, you may find that you might like it."

Soarin felt a hard knot forming in his throat. He kept his mouth shut for fear that another accusatory invective may spill out without his permission. After a few moments had passed, he glanced away, breaking away from those pleading eyes of hers. He chose his words carefully before he spoke. "W-what do you want to know?" he offered uneasily.

She seemed pleased by his response. "What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite..." Soarin cocked an eyebrow. "That's a little irrelevant, isn't it?"

"Ah'm teaching you how to express yourself," Applejack smiled playfully. "Might as well start off with something easy, right?"

It was indeed a bizarre question. His favorite color? It was something he hadn't given thought to for years. He didn't even know the answer. Soarin did not even know what his favorite color was... He really **was** pathetic.

"Well?" Applejack said impatiently.

Soarin looked into her eyes, and he knew the answer. What ever his favorite color was it had just been replaced. "Green," he said under his breath, looking away abashedly, feeling foolish for saying it out loud. "Emerald green." There was a strange silence until Soarin finally allowed himself to look at her again.

The mare's expression was inscrutable. "Any other colors you're particularly fond of?"

Soarin tried to look around the room for an idea, but his eyes seemed to force themselves to go right back to her. "Blonde," he said, feeling stupidly enamored. "I mean yellow. Like brownish yellow. Like gold." Again he shifted his gaze from her. He didn't like feeling this vulnerable.

When he worked up the courage to look at her again, he noticed that she too was turned away, faint pink lines burning away at her cheeks between those soft white freckles of hers. "Is there a... There a reason why you like those colors?" She suddenly grinned and gave him a sideways glance, as if to challenge his fortitude.

Soarin refused to look away from her this time. "Emerald and gold," he said tactfully, daring himself to smile back. "They're the colors of precious things."

Applejack fidgeted, looking too embarrassed to say what she was about to say, but the words somehow found their way through her lips. She turned and looked out the window across the room, staring into the distance. "There's that cowboy again," she sighed. "The one that set the sky on fire. Was wonderin' if Ah'd ever see him again."

"Cowboy," Soarin echoed. That was what she called him when he was... How did she word it? 'Wild, dangerous, exciting and fearless.' That daredevil bravado that his experience with the Wonderbolts had ingrained into him. Was that what she was referring to?

"Soarin," Applejack said, casting a wondering eye upon the bedridden stallion. "Ah got another question for ya... This one's a bit more personal: Who are you, exactly?"

"Who am I?" Repeated Soarin, regarding her question with perplexity. "I'm... Me."

"Ah know that, but what Ah mean is... **Who** are you? Ah've only known you personally for only a few days, but Ah've seen so many sides of you now. Ah don't know which one is the real you."

Soarin tried not to look as dumbfounded as he was. He found himself resisting the urge to tilt his head, to squint, to cock an eyebrow. "Applejack," He finally said. "I-I don't know what you mean. I want to answer you, but I don't understand what you're trying to ask me."

The farmer looked out the window again. She said nothing for the longest time. Soarin felt a mounting tension within her. Her expression was deep and thoughtful.

A minute passed...

And then another...

And then another...

Finally she sighed, and this is what she said: "The first day you were here, you seemed a might bit terse. You'd only speak when spoken to, as if you weren't interested in getting close to anyone. And then there was Rainbow Dash's party. You came in and destroyed that stage. Ah didn't know what to think of you at first. 'What's this idiot doin'', was what Ah thought. But then you looked at me. Your eyes were - well, there was somethin' crazy in em. And then you did them things ya did, you blasted that tornado with that crazy toy of yours, those flames swallowed you up - mah heart started beating a mile a minute - and like a rebellious wandering soul, telling hell to go buck its self, you came flying out of the jaws of that hellstorm. Never in mah life had Ah ever seen anything so... So... Ah don't know. Ah'm at a loss for words, to tell ya the truth. 'Insane' is the only word Ah had for it. Ah'll admit that Ah started feeling a little weak in the knees. It took me a little while to understand and come to grips with what Ah was feeling. Suddenly Ah was overwhelmed with this desire to get to know you..."

Soarin just watched her, rapt in stunned silence. She spoke so low, he could barely hear her. Applejack turned her head and looked at him. The look in her eyes was no longer distant. They focused right on his. Their gazes were locked like two statues facing one another, unable to look away.

"Ah looked all over for you," she continued, "but you was nowhere to be found. Ah figured you went back to the farm for some reason. When Ah saw you all alone in your barn, drunk, vulnerable, you opened up to me. That's when Ah saw another side of you: That part of you that had been suffering silently to yourself. And then you went and knocked me for a loop. You called me beautiful. You told me mah voice was like audible sunshine to you. Part of me figured it was just the ramblings of a drunken stallion, but there was another part of me that believed it. Ah was drawn to you by the time the night was over. Ah could barely sleep. Those compliments you drunkenly slurred at me played witchcraft with mah mind all night. All Ah could think of after that was you: that crazy cowboy that set the sky on fire. When Ah was tossin' and turnin' in bed, unable to pry the thought of you out of mah skull, that's when Ah cooked up mah scheme. The Ponyville day celebration was right around the corner. It would give me the perfect excuse to ask you out.

"Ah was beside mahself the next day, wondering what surprises you had in store for me. Ah was so nervous, Ah just couldn't shut up when Ah was around you. Every time an opportunity presented itself to drop the question on you, it just wouldn't come out. Ah was mad at mahself for behaving like such a coward. Ah know Ah told ya Ah was gonna talk to you during dinner, but Ah couldn't wait that long. Figured Ah'd just see if you'd be interested in going to the hayburger for lunch, just you and me, and that's when Ah was gonna pop the question on ya. But then... Ah'm sure you know the rest..."

Applejack sniffled, and began to nervously stroke at her her hair as it dangled over her shoulder. She looked down and added, "Now ya know everything. Ah got nothin' to hide, so neither should you. You've got no reason to anymore. So tell me, Soarin, who are you?"

...

Soarin blinked dumbly. His mouth felt dry. He tried to speak several times, but the words wouldn't come. He must have looked like a gasping fish out of water. She had him. He knew her secrets. She willingly surrendered everything to him. He was now obligated, no, indebted to answer any question she had. She trapped him, giving him no means of out or escape. "Who am I?" he echoed. He understood the question now, and he couldn't refuse to answer.

Applejack quietly looked on, patiently waiting for him to speak. She looked like she was willing to wait there in that stool forever for his answer if she had to.

Soarin turned his head, eyeing his hat. The question was not as literal as it sounded. Not to him, anyway. It felt like the crux of the matter was not who he was, but who he wanted to be. He had already made the decision to improve himself. Soarin shifted his wary glance toward Applejack, unsure of the decision he had just made. He loved her. And she had all but just admitted her feelings for him. He loved her so much, he could feel his sullenness drifting away, giving way to a smile, like rays of sunshine burning fingers of light through the blackened clouds that was who he had used to be. The more he thought of his answer, the surer he became. "You want to know who I am?" he asked. "I'll do you one better than that. I'll tell you who I was, who I am now, and who I plan to be for the rest of my days."

This seemed to score a curious look from Applejack.

"I was," Soarin began his monologue, "a product of my own self pity. Boohoo. That's who I was. Woe is me. Woe is Soarin. I was so afraid of life, that I was afraid to live. I was moody, pissy, and petulant. All I could think of was what the world had in store for me next. 'How is life going to screw me over today,' was what I would think to myself every morning. But you know what, AJ, that's not who I want to be anymore, and that's not who I'm going to be."

Applejack raised an eyebrow. She cracked a smile. She actually smiled at him. Soarin could feel his heart pounding, loving her smile, loving that it was him that was making her smile. "Okay?" she said quizzically. "Who are you now?"

Soarin didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next. Perhaps it was because he knew now that she found boldness to be a desirable trait. Whatever it was, he couldn't stop himself. He reached for her hoof, watching her blush as he took it.

The amusement drained from her face as it gave way to surprise. She looked down at his hoof as it eclipsed hers. "Y-you still ain't told me who you are," she said, her voice laced disbelief. "Soarin, what are y—"

No sooner had the baffled mare began her inquiry when Soarin suddenly pulled her onto the bed, locking her in a fierce, affectionate hug. He then lowered his muzzle to her ear as she laid beside him and proclaimed, "I'm the cowboy that set the world on fire. That's who I am now. And I'll just as gladly set the sea on fire, if it makes you happy, if it keeps that smile on your face... And physics be damned."

Nothing happened at first. Applejack had yet to hug him back, her arms locked curled in front of her as if to erect a barrier between them. Moments passed, then finally, "How do Ah know you ain't just telling me what Ah want to hear?" Her tone had a challenging edge to it, almost as if she were testing the conviction of his bold deceleration.

If Soarin was going to be this cowboy he was trying to be, he needed to learn to speak like one. He thought of the one and only cowboy he had ever known, and it was as if it was **his** voice that came forth, smooth and methodical. "You could ask me a million questions, and I could have an answer for each one. You'd still know nothing about me. Allow me the chance to speak with my actions - then, and only then, will you know what I'm truly worth to you."

Applejack lifted her head, gazing at him awestruck. She relaxed her arms, allowing the space she set between them to close in. "Give you a chance?" she said. "As in - You want your job back?"

"Am I still fired?" Soarin could feel his chest tightening in anticipation for the answer. "Do you still want me to go?"

The farmer shook her head, and finally hugged him back, burying herself into his chest. "Ah don't want ya to leave. Ah can't force you to stay, but... Ah want to see this new Soarin for mahself." She tried to smile up at him to ease the tension. "And if Ah don't like him, then Ah'll fire him." She attempted an awkward laugh, but she quickly stifled it. That cute, shy side of hers was showing itself again. "Uh... Sorry. Tryin' to be funny. That just came out as dumb."

"Not at all," Soarin replied. "I think that's a good plan. Matter of fact, let's make a deal. You and I can go to the Ponyville day celebration together. And if I don't show you the night of your life, **then** you can fire me."

Applejack lowered that blonde head of hers onto his chest once more and replied, "Ah'm not gonna fire you. Ah'll just hit you instead."

Soarin hugged her head against him, smiling. "You're on."

"Ah can hit pretty hard," Applejack added. Soarin could practically hear the smile in her voice. "So you better not disappoint me, cowboy."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"You better dance with me this time. And you better tell me Ah look good, even if Ah don't."

"It's impossible for you to not look good," Soarin stated. "You could gain a thousand pounds and shave your head and you'd still be beautiful to me."

The farmer's head perked up. She reached for his face and gently stroked him on the cheek. "You're becoming quite the sweet talker. Ah'm already startin' to like this new you." She sighed and, her demeanor dimmed slightly. "But Ah can't just pretend that last night didn't happen."

_Oh no..._ Soarin had hoped she wouldn't mention that. He didn't want this moment to be ruined. Her face was so close to his he could kiss her. Why would she suddenly bring this up?

"Ah want your solemn promise that you'll never speak to me the way you did again. You're lucky yer cute, cowboy, or Ah'd've had Big Mac give you the once-over."

"I swear on every apple pie I have ever, and ever will eat!" Insisted Soarin. "This isn't an excuse for how I acted, but I was... I was—"

"You weren't who you are now," Applejack finished for him.

Soarin smiled. "Yeah. That's right."

When Applejack smiled back at him, as if to confirm to him that everything that needed to be said had been said, he decided to make his move. Those soft sweet lips of hers were everything that he wanted at that moment, and he had them. He just needed to take them and make them his. His hooves crept up until they gently cupped her face. Her nerves suddenly washed away her smile. "What are ya doin'?" she asked.

"Do you honestly think I can have all this sugar in front of me and resist the urge to steal a little taste for myself?" Soarin quipped.

"Now you're being a little too bold. Ah can't keep up."

"Then, let me catch you up." Soarin leaned his head toward her, closing his eyes - but that moment when he thought he'd feel her lips - he felt nothing at all. He opened his eyes and noticed that she had turned her head away from him. "What's wrong?"

"That sugar line of yers gave me diabetes." Applejack stated, keeping her head turned. "What, you thought we were just gonna suddenly make out in a fit of raw passion, like we're living in some kind of trashy romance novel?"

Soarin blanched, suddenly chagrined by his presumptions, disappointed and taken aback. "Of course not!" he responded, perhaps a little too defensively. Then he added, "Well, not unless you wanted to."

A smile forced itself across Applejack's face. She turned to him, snorted, and laughed a long, drawl-laced, teary-eyed chortle. She buried herself into Soarin's chest, threw her arms around him, and hugged him tightly.

"What?" Soarin demanded, baffled.

"You are such a guy!" Applejack managed in her mirth.

"Thanks for noticing," was Soarin's monotone response. "I don't get what's so funny."

Applejack's grip around Soarin began to loosen as the laughter dwindled. She punctuated the end of her mirth with a sigh and a smile, then she just laid there, relaxed on her side, smiling up at him. "Soarin," she said to him, very sweetly. "Ah want you to know that Ah like you, and Ah'm really lookin' forward to getting to know this stranger you've claimed that you've become. But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this at mah pace. And Ah understand that last night was a mistake, but you got some makin' up to do."

Soarin would have been lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, but he knew she was right. He couldn't have expected to come from last night completely unscathed of the consequences. At least she was giving him a chance. That was more than what he felt he deserved. Whether they were officially or just technically together still seemed to be hanging around in the air, but he was still grateful for the time he'd get to spend with her. He loved her. He knew he did. He wanted desperately to tell her, but now just simply wasn't the right time.

All Soarin could do at that moment was wrap her in his arms and hold her, listening to her sigh as she melted into his embrace. He felt his heart swelling with with new-found hope and affection, loving her, that mare in his arms, more and more by the second.


End file.
